


For A Little While

by DillyDilly45



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 81,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DillyDilly45/pseuds/DillyDilly45
Summary: This was my very first fanfic. I did this a looooong time ago. It is complete and it is lengthy. It was also a desperate attempt at happiness for my favorite sons of Feanor. Some of it makes me shake my head while other parts I am quite fond of. I take liberties but try very hard to stick to much of Tolkien's canon. Just wanted to share. Much of this ties into my characterizations in The Moth And The Flame





	1. Chapter 1

He paused briefly as he followed Thannor into the clearing. His men were finishing off the last of the orcs that they had been tracking when he saw her. She stood (barely) at the center of the clearing, sword held out in front of her, pointed towards three of his men that stood staring at her curiously, like some feral animal that they had finally cornered and were now at a loss on what to do next. She was covered in blood, not all hers, and was losing color by the second. She would not be standing much longer. In truth, he could not figure out how she was still standing now. Anytime anyone made any kind of motion towards her the sword was quickly thrust in that direction.

"She brought down two herself," said Thannor, "and wounded another before we arrived. But now she will not let any of us near her."

He glanced at her again. Her hair was matted and wet and stuck to her face and neck. And her eyes. Even as she struggled to keep them focused he could see the blind rage that burned in them. Rage and adrenaline is what kept her up now and that was quickly failing. He felt himself grow impatient and made the decision to simply walk up and take the sword out of her hand when he saw it.

As he moved, she whipped the blade in his direction and placed her wild eyed stare on him. It was in that one quick movement that he caught a quick glimpse of why she was still alive. Just a flash really, of dark hair and wide eyes that barely met her knees. Small and frail and for her invaluable, a child of, perhaps two, maybe three. He turned back to Thannor.

"I know" said Thannor. "We found the body of another young boy, barely to manhood further back. He had fought but was run through and died of his wounds."

He nodded and waved his hand. He knew what the Enemy did to those they caught. He did not need to hear more. He turned back to the woman in front of him and felt a slight twinge in his chest. It still happened to him from time to time. Empathy. He could see and feel her pain even more clearly now. He knew of loss. Inwardly he sighed.

"Get back" he ordered.

The three soldiers who had been pondering their next move immediately moved back to the tree line to assist their brothers in the cleanup, happy to hand over the situation. She jerked at the movement of the other soldiers, unsure where to point and settled back on him since he still stared at her. As their eyes locked again, she wobbled slightly but still held the sword between them. Inwardly, he sighed again.

As he began to approach her a few of his men stopped to watch. While they were curious about this woman who had managed on her own to bring down several goblins and possibly wounded another, they would continue to be at the ready for their lord. For them it meant that she was not to be underestimated. When he came to a few feet between them, he lowered his sword slowly to the ground in front of her and raised his empty left hand in to the air, his right arm he extended out but remained draped under is cloak. She swayed back and forth, eyes struggling to stay focused. Pain and anguish came off of her in waves, but it was kept in check by a rage that seemed to burn everything else away. Pain, anguish, rage. 

_Y_ _es, yes_ he thought dismissively,  _it comes to us all. Her journey is no different. She will accept it or she will die._  

He gestured to her and spoke.

" _Lyé ná mala_ ", he said.

She froze.

" _Ní vanda uimala nalye_."

She blinked at him in confusion. Although he knew she would not understand, he spoke in Quenya, for he knew the language of his people was sometimes like music to the second born and may be soothing to her ear.

" _Mapa camba-nya_ " he said softly, reaching his hand out to her.

With each word he spoke, he saw her strength began to slowly ebb away. Her eyes never left his, and therefore, he saw the exact moment when she went from the edge of madness, to a sort of hopelessness, and finally surrender. With a loud exhale of breath, her arms fell to her side and her shoulders slumped, sword dangling limp from her hand. He caught her before she ever had the chance to fall to her knees.

_Seems there is more than one person who can use their voice_  he thought, quite satisfied with himself.

In one fluid movement he scooped her up and carried her over to Thannor. While Thannor bundled her up and prepared to ride, he turned his gaze back to the clearing and looked at the tiny figure that was staring back at him. If he had not known that the child was back there he could have been missed among the dead carcasses that had been piled up to burn. The child did not move, only stared wide eyed from behind a tear streaked face, obviously in shock. He did not expect any form of resistance, but still he did not want to distress the lapsë anymore.

_Lapsë?_   _You are becoming as soft as your brother._

The little pile of tears and dirt with the saucer eyes stared at him, waiting.

_Another child,_ he thought wryly,  _Macalaurë_   _will be so pleased_.

He turned his mind back to the task at hand and went to the nearest horse and pulled a spare cloak from a saddle bag. He then walked over to the child and knelt down before him. Wrapping him up in the blanket and gently lifting him up, he cradled in his arm and studied the little face with the large eyes that stared up at him. 

_Young, so young._  

There did not seem to be any major physical harm done. Aside from some minor scratches and bruising, he felt that physically, the child would be fine. Again he thought about shock and handed to child over to one of his men and ordered Thannor to personally see that the babe and his mother were taken care of. He did not know if the mother would live but would do what he could. In these dark times there was not much more he could do. And regardless of what was said, he was not so far gone that he would not help those in need.

After Thannor had ridden off he turned back to the clearing and retrieved his sword. His men were dragging the last of the filth to the center and prepared to light the fires. There was a time when he had thought that he would burn them all. He had truly believed that a long time ago. Those days were gone now but he would never stop hunting the beasts and the fire is the least of what they deserved.

No, he would never stop hunting them.

They had tracked this party of orcs almost all the way to the river Gelion. They were growing bold to come so close to his camp at Amon Ereb. He made the mental note to increase the watch all the way past the river if necessary. He walked over to the orc that the woman had killed. Or at least what was left of the orc, for its head had been cleaved in repeatedly. It was nothing more than a pile of mush, bone, stench and black blood now. Thannor had reported that she had still been hacking away at it when his men rode up. 

_A mother's rage_.

The second orc made some sort of gurgling noise and he gave it a sideways glance.  _Ah, still alive are we,_ he thought. He grabbed the orc by the leg and dragged it over to the rest of the pile of filth before them. He turned to the men that were now standing by with torches.

" _Dosta hain pân."_

The fire lit up the night as it began its work.  _Yes, burn them all._

"My lord Maedhros."

A voice from behind pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to see one of his men emerging from the dark carrying a smaller, carefully wrapped figure. 

_A mother's loss._

He stood and looked at the figure that his man held gently in his arms.

"He fought hard, my lord. I regret that we could not get there sooner."

Maedhros's mouth tightened oh so slightly when the elf said regret. How he loathed that word.

"We shall return him to his mother. He will receive a burial in accordance to his people's customs."

With that, he mounted his horse, and with the rest of his company, disappeared into the dark.

* * *

 

_She heard nothing but the constant ring in her ears, high pitched and piercing. Almost like a scream. Or was that her? She could not tell anymore. The pain from her chest sent out waves of heat that seemed to cover every inch of her body. She could no longer see straight and it was painful to focus. It did not matter. She no longer wanted focus anyway. Her son was gone, she just wanted it to end. She had failed her children. It was over and if they wanted to kill her then they could. She just wished they would stop standing there and do something. She thought they were men but could not tell. Something was running in to her eyes making it even hard for her to focus. And that damn ringing in her ears only seemed to get louder. The heat in her limbs seemed to be subsiding though. Unfortunately now she was becoming acutely aware of the cold. She gripped the sword tighter and hoped she did not start trembling. If they were to die tonight it would not be quietly._

* * *

 

Maglor looked over the new accommodations of the sleeping woman before him. She seemed to be resting somewhat more peacefully now, for the moment anyway. There was some slight color back in her cheeks and her breathing was slow and steady. And she was even having moments of semi-consciousness, although those were difficult and brought on by nightmares. She still had a long road to travel with her recovery though and he knew it would not be easy. He looked at the bandages that covered her throat and wondered if it would affect her speech. It would most certainly scar. Yes, she had a very long road ahead of her. But that was not the reason why he had her moved into the keep and into the room that had previously been Maedhros's study.

He laid the plate of food he was holding down on the floor in front of the bed and then stepped back and waited. Only a few moments went by before a little hand appeared and slowly pulled the plate under the bed. Maglor smiled slightly and reached behind him for a chair to sit and wait. He took the plate relatively quickly for having his environment upended again. He felt it was a good sign. Elrond and Elros would be pleased to hear this for they had taken a great interest in the boy once they learned he was here and were concerned that the move may have hurt his progress in some way.

He settled himself into a chair next to the bed to wait and allowed his mind to drift to the time when the twins had first come to him, begging him to intervene.

"He will not speak."

"He will not eat."

"He just sits there - "

" -staring!"

"He responds to nothing and hides from everyone."

"He is wasting away Maglor, you must help him!"

"You will help him."

"Please?"

"Please."

Maglor had sat at his study, chin resting in his hands as his eyes moved back and forth between the two as they spoke. They had rehearsed for this one. When they had finished, he did not move but studied them more closely.

They had grown much since they were brought here. They looked to be almost twelve years old now but it was hard for Maglor to tell. The rate at which they matured was completely unknown to him as he had never known peredhil before, much less raised one. It was a learning experience for them all.

When they had first arrived they were inseparable and so much alike that he had gotten them confused quite often. But now, the individual was starting to come out. Elros is excitable, adventurous and easily distracted whereas Elrond is calmer, careful and focused on his studies.

With a deep sigh Maglor stood up from his desk and stared down at the twin faces that stared expectantly back at him. He would never get anything done anyway. Clasping his hands behind his back he slowly turned and walked towards the door. While Carnistir had spoken often of the potential of men, he never thought very highly of them. Not since Nirnaeth Arnoediad. He had experienced their propensity for treachery first hand and since then did not concern himself with their troubles. But this was just a child. And in his mind, a child's fëa is pure and free of taint and therefore worthy of saving. Maglor did not know if the edain could die from a broken heart but he was in no mood to find out now.

He turned back to look at them one more time. "Well?" he said. "Come along then." The boys smiled and jumped up after him.

And this is how it went every day for the last week and a half, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A plate of food brought to the house of healing and left on the floor next to the bed of a wounded woman for the child that hid underneath it. When he was able to finally glimpse the boy he saw how thin and frail he was. Healer Hestil informed him on how unresponsive the child was. He was not eating and never left his mother's bed. He hardly slept and when he did finally pass out from exhaustion, sleep would be fitful and awakened with screams. They always left a candle burning for him because the dark would only bring out more weeping. Things would have to be taken very slowly.

The first few days consisted of the three of them arriving in the sick room to take their meals. They would set up across the room and lay a plate down on the floor at the foot of the bed. They would quietly talk of their day or the lessons for the day and carry on as they would normally. And for those first few days nothing happened that they could see. When they finished their meals they would gather up their things and make their way out of the room, leaving the full plate of food sitting on the floor where they set it. It was not till the end of that week that Maglor actually saw the child take the plate. As they gathered their things to go he caught some movement from the corner of his eye and saw a small hand emerge from under the bed to snatch a piece of fruit and retreat back into the dark.

This had pleased Elrond and Elros endlessly. They began to take their time more and started to bring parchment for reading after lunch and arrows to shape and fletch. But the first major breakthrough did not come till well into the second week after dinner, when Elros brought Maglor's harp.

This had taken him by surprise.

"I just thought that . . . well . . . if your music can make Maedhros smile . . ." he trailed off, uncertain now if had done the right thing. Elrond simply stared intently at Maglor from where he sat on the floor. Maglor recovered quickly and took the harp from Elros.

"Of course" he said. "Making Maedhros smile is no small measure."

Elros grinned and sat down across from his brother, giving him a look that quite literally shouted I told you so. If Elrond was bothered, he showed nothing. He simply stretched his long legs in from of him, crossing one foot over the other to wait.

Maglor settled himself in his chair with the harp and began to play. A playful tune at first, one of the first songs he learned as child. Something to make the twins smile. But as the night progressed and his fingers warmed up, the music became more intricate, more complex and the room almost seemed to become a dream. When Maglor finally stopped playing he realized he must have lost track of time, but no one seemed to mind. Elrond had leaned back against the wall with his hands behind his head and his eyes shut. Elros had lay completely on the floor, his head resting against Elrond's leg while Hestil stood in the corner wiping away tears.

And across the room and under the bed, a little face poked out from the dark space, his head resting in his hands where he lay on his stomach. Maglor set the harp down and went over to the twins nudging them gently.

"Come, to your rooms."

They very sleepily rose from where they sat and, almost like they were in a trance, bid him good night and left for their rooms. After they had left and Hestil had composed herself enough bid him goodnight too, he turned to where the little face still stuck out from under the bed regarding him quietly. After a moment he crossed over to the bed of the sleeping woman, knelt down and smiled.

The child never moved. He simply looked at Maglor with two very large, dark eyes, and smiled back.

The next morning they arrived as usual with their trays of food to find the child sitting at the table waiting for them. If the twins were surprised they gave away nothing. They simply set down the trays and started handing out plates of food for their breakfast. Hestil stood behind the child with a smile so wide it nearly split her face in two.

"He almost slept the whole night, my lord!" she very excitedly told Maglor. "Your presence has been magic!"

Unfortunately, that would be the last time she would feel that way. For while she was happy the child continued to make excellent progress, after several days of having three young boys bounding around the house of healing, Hestil had had enough.

"Forgive me but this is a house of HEALING, my lord" Hestil exclaimed, most exacerbated. "Patients need rest! Not very loud lessons on the game of snakes and stones! This just will not do, my lord, begging your pardon but it will not do!"

Maglor agreed. He was starting to grow a little weary of bring his meals out every day anyway. So he decided it would be best to move the boy and his mother into the main house. This is why he now found himself in what was formally Maedhros's study.

He chose Maedhros's study for two reasons. The first being that it was large and had a side room that led out to a courtyard area. This way he and the twins could continue to spend time with the child without disturbing his mother's recovery. The second and more important reason was that Maedhros was conveniently not here. And seeing as how all of this was thrust into his lap because his brother became soft over an edain child, he saw no reason why he should give up any of his rooms. Maedhros was hardly ever here anyway and would just have to accept it.

He winced slightly at the thought of Maedhros accepting it.

Oh well, he would handle it, he usually did. A light tug at his tunic pull Maglor from is thoughts. He looked down to see the child standing before him, empty plate in hand. 

_Well look who is out and about_ , he thought.

He smiled down at the boy as he took the plate and placed it on the nearby table. The boy looked cautiously about the room, occasionally casting Maglor an anxious glance here and there. Maglor let the boy roam freely, allowing him to become comfortable in his new surroundings. It was in that moment that he suddenly realized that he did not know the child's name. Almost two weeks and still no name. In fact he was not sure the child even knew his either. When the boy finally came back over to where Maglor stood, he knelt down before him.

"Do you have a name child?" he asked softly, almost in a whisper. The boy just stared at him and said nothing.

"I am Maglor" he said. "The two young boys outside are m-", he paused " . . . are Elrond and Elros." Still nothing from the boy. Maglor slowly reached out and lightly touched the child's hand. He did not take it, only initiated a light physical contact.

"You must not fear me. You and your mother are safe here. No harm will ever come to either of you while you are behind these walls. You must believe me. Do you understand?"

Maglor remained kneeling in front of him waiting to see if he would get a response. The boy's eyes moved from Maglor to his mother who stirred slightly in her bed. And then, in what seemed like an almost absentminded gesture, the child reached up and began to fiddle with the embroidery on Maglor's collar. Maglor did not move.

"Evon" the child said. When Maglor did not respond, the child turned and looked at him.

"Evon" he said again and then his turned full attention to Maglor's collar. Maglor smiled.

"Evon" he said back to him and let him play with his collar till his knees began to protest. But that was a small matter to him at the moment. For the first time he truly believed this would work out well for the little edain after all.

Of course he never anticipated Maedhros's return that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

_She watched the figure move before her. It was huge and dark and massive to her blurry vision. It was death. It had to be. It had finally come to drag her and her children down into its dark, endless depths. It began to approach her, lowering itself slowly towards the ground for some strange reason before it stood up to its full height, looming over her with arms outstretched. I am not ready for you. You already have one son; you will not have this one too. She braced herself. And then death spoke. Almost immediately the ringing in her head stopped and the sound of the words spoken seemed to move all around her. The darkness that seemed to want to swallow her before was pushed away by a brilliant and beautiful light. She was unaware of her arms dropping to her sides or the sword hanging loosely from her hand. She only knew that she could go no further. Suddenly, the light seemed to envelope her all at once and pull her in. The last thing she remembered before unconsciousness took her, were the eyes. Two great silver eyes that seemed to contain the light of a thousand stars, surrounded by a dark, dark fire._

 

* * *

 

Maglor set the harp down and stepped carefully over the three sleeping figures.

He had reservations about allowing the twins to sleep in the room, but they did seem to have a calming effect on the boy, so he decided to leave them where they lay. If the boy woke in the night Elrond or Elros would know where to find him and Hestil had sent one of the healers to watch the mother through the night so they would not be alone.

As he left the room he thought to himself about the day's events and felt they went well. The twins were especially happy. They were quite taken with the boy. This was not very surprising to Maglor as there are no other children in the keep. If ever one of the men took a wife Maedhros tended to cut back on their duties and if they had a child they were relieved from service all together. This tended to make an already bleak existence even bleaker. But the ability of the peredhil to adapt was strong as well as necessary, so adapt they did. They had weathered much since being found by Maglor and his brother.

He remembered how they found them in a small camp at a waterfall near the Sirion. The Havens. A million images and memories flooded his consciousness and he immediately and instinctively pushed them all out of his mind. Today went too well to punish himself with the nightmares of the past. He always had tomorrow to make himself miserable. For now he would just content himself with the progress Evon had made and the effort put forth by Elrond and Elros. The next challenge would be the mother.

He felt no guilt when he thought of how little of his attention he had given her recovery. But for the sake of the child, it was something he would have to take more interest in. It was only practical to assume that Evon's recovery would be affected by hers and he did not wish to see him succumb to grief.

Maglor chastised himself for his lack of concern. It was not fair to hold against this woman the treacherous actions of men past. Many of the race of men had come into his and his brother's service when Thargelion was overrun. Refugees come regularly into Amon Ereb and many willingly stay when the majority of their own people had left long ago. Whether they were unknowing or indifferent to the bloody events of the brother's past made no difference to Maedhros as long as they were willing to hunt orcs. Personally Maglor felt it had to do with the peredhil and their relation to Tour and Beren. Either way, it mattered not. It was time to let go this bitterness that he carried.

As he pushed open the door to his chambers, he was making the decision to rectify this within himself when he froze. The fire was lit in his room, bathing it in warmth and light, and in front of that fire reclined in one of the chairs, was Maedhros. His long legs stretched out in front of him still in riding boots. His head leaned against his left hand, fingers lightly tapping his temple while his right arm dangled over the other side of the chair draped beneath the layers of his riding cloak, as per usual. 

_He has not yet changed,_ thought Maglor,  _he must have just arrived. Perhaps there is still time to prepare him . . ._

"I went to my study . . . "

_Or perhaps not._

"Imagine my surprise -"

"I did not know you had returned -"

"– when I walk in –"

"I was going to tell you -"

"– to find that it had been converted to a sick room –"

"Maedhros . . ."

"- for a near dead atani woman and her child. "

"Maitmo please . . . "

"But what was even more surprising, almost shocking really –"

"Let me explain what -"

"– was that you were playing."

Throughout this entire back and forth, Maedhros had never looked up at his brother. His eyes remained fixed on the fire until that last sentence. Now they were locked on to Maglor's and he thought he might drown in the sadness that filled them. The pain in his eyes was different from the usual guilt and shame that they carried. That was a part of them now and accepted. But this was something else, some new pain that Maglor did not know. He walked over to the chair across from his brother and took a seat.

"You were playing. And I listened to you Macalaurë. I stood and listened to every note because . . . well because, I could not move."

Maglor said nothing. He must have come in while he was getting the boys to sleep. He had never heard him come in. He studied his brother. He was still covered with grime from the day's travels. His hair was partially bound back and loosely fell about his face. He looked so weary, so tired, and in truth he was. They both were. The terrible oath had drained so much out of them, out of their life. Maglor wondered sometimes if they even had a fëa left to save. And if there was, was it even worth saving.

"It was good to hear you play again," sighed Maedhros, who had gone back to looking at the fire again and fiddling with something in his lap. "Pity you did not sing. I might have almost felt young again. Now, do you mind telling me what has happened to my study?" It was Maglor's turn to sigh.

"I had meant to tell you when you first came in" Maglor started to explain. "The woman's injuries are quite severe and are taking some time to heal. Evon on the other hand has healed rapidly, well, at least physically and -"

"Evon?" Maedhros asked placidly.

"Yes, Evon. The child's name is Evon. They do name their young," Maglor said dryly. Maedhros simply raised his eyebrows almost too innocuously, continuing to fiddle with whatever was in his lap.

"As I was saying," continued Maglor, the concern he had felt started to get replaced by annoyance "Physically  _Evon_  has healed well, but mentally and emotionally has been more of a challenge. Elrond and Elros are became very concerned for his wellbeing and asked me to assist."

"Did they?" Tap, tap, tap went Maedhros's finger on the item in his lap.

"Yes they did," Maglor said, glancing at Maedhros's lap glimpsing what he thought was a piece of parchment. "They have become quite attached to the child and I could not have them running around the healing house disturbing Hestil."

"No, I guess you could not," answered Maedhros. Tap, tap, tap on the paper.

"Your study is large enough to accommodate the mother and the child and has a side room with an entrance to the courtyard. The twins can practice forms and lessons and see the boy while not disturbing the mother."

Tap, tap, tap.

"If the mother is able to survive her wounds and becomes strong enough I will move them immediately. I have never seen the peredhil take such an interest before and I will not deny them this. It is has been good for all of them. I cannot even say if the woman will survive her wounds. Her sleep is fitful and if she does wake who knows what the grief will do. You are rarely here; will you truly miss the room? If so I will relocate them elsewhere.  _Maedhros what is in your hand!?"_

The last part had come out a little louder than Maglor had intended but his brother was being quite irritating. The consistent flicking of the parchment in his hand distracted Maglor to the point of his speech becoming so rushed that by the end he practically spat the words out.

Maedhros on the other hand never moved. He stopped tapping the parchment though. Maglor now thought the room had become eerily quiet. Maedhros slowly looked up at him and for the second time that night Maglor stared into his brother's eyes and felt his heart might break. 

_What has happened Maitmo? What has done this to you? Not the oath, please not the oath._

Suddenly Maedhros stood up and looked at the piece of parchment in his hand. He spoke softly.

"The woman will survive. She woke briefly while you played; I was able to look at her. Her fëa is still strong. She will live." Maedhros handed the parchment to Maglor and walked towards the door. When he got there he stopped and spoke once more before leaving.

"You should play more often Macalaurë. It brought some peace to her rest. It brings everyone a sense of peace when you play, even if only for a little while." And with that he left.

Maglor looked at the parchment in his lap. He opened it and read the words that had rendered his brother into the shell that had sat before him a moment ago. It was a summons. A summons from Eönwë that called now all Elves, men, dwarves, beasts, and birds unto his standard who did not elect to fight for Morgoth. Maglor's stared wide eyed at the fire that was dying before him, the hand that held the letter dropped over the side of the chair while the other balled into a fist. 

_The Valar are coming,_ he thought unable to suppress the bitterness that began to burn inside him.  _The Valar are coming to wage war against Morgoth._

* * *

 

_Some time earlier._

Maedhros stepped out of his tent and took in the early morning air.

The light of Vása was just starting to appear in the dark morning sky, giving off a soft pink glow from behind the hills of Amon Ereb. He stood outside and admired the last lights of Elentári winking out with the coming of Arien as he waited for Thannor to return.

He had arrived from his patrols just moments ago and now wore no armor, just his tunic and breeches. His riding cloak that normally lay about his person was now draped over a chair in his tent, leaving his right arm exposed. The lights of Varda had always helped him to forget his deformities. That and there was no one around at the moment.

His eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of movement along the hills. When he finally found what he was looking for in the distance, he gave pause.

Thannor was returning but he was also accompanied by more than the elves he had left with. They were escorting a group of about ten to fifteen figures between them. Maedhros would have dismissed them for more refugees from Ossiriand, but this group was different. This was no lost band of displaced wanderers found in the wild. They were dwarves. It looked to be a group of nine men and five women . . . or twelve men and two women . . . or it could be all men or all women, Maedhros would not know until they came into the camp. The Gonnhirrum could be a difficult race to tell apart up close and all but impossible from a distance. It was the beards.

He decided that he would wait until they made their introductions before assuming. Judging by the manor of the companies approach, he felt that there had been no trouble when Thannor had come across them. Their gait was swift, but casual and at ease.

It had been some time since he had dealing with Aulë's people. While they are sturdy and fierce fighters and had hate for Morgoth and his creations, relations between their peoples were seldom now, since the sack of Menegroth. They must have some need to allow Thannor and company to escort them into camp so willingly. Perhaps seeking supplies or are looking to trade for provisions while they travel. He called to Nidthor and instructed him to make materials ready just in case.

While many of his peoples did not care for the Naugrim since the death, or murder depending on who you were talking to, of Thingol, Maedhros would trade with them still. Thingol had become a fool who should have returned to the rightful owners what never belonged to him long ago. And the Naugrim? Well, everyone knew of their obsession with anything that shines. It seemed only typical that they would create a gift so beautiful that they would end up coveting it for themselves.

In his heart though, Maedhros knew the fault was not theirs alone. The obsession was not brought on by their own making. No, that obsession had been made centuries ago and filled with the purest of lights that was capable of creating the darkest of compulsions.

Maedhros turned and entered his tent. He walked over to the chair where his cloak lay and swept it about his shoulders. No need to alarm anyone with his disfigurement. He then retrieved his boots and slipped them back on.  _Always one for propriety,_ he thought with a slight smile. He stepped out into the full morning sun as Thannor approached the tent.

"My lord, we came across these Naugrim near where the Thalos meets the Gelion. They are seeking minor provisions as they travel north."

The slight disdain in Thannor's tone made him reassess the nature of their escort. If they had been forced to accompany Thannor then this could become most unpleasant very quickly. Maedhros regarded the group of dwarves that stood behind Thannor. Ten males and at least four females and all armed to the teeth. One of what he thought was a female had an axe strapped to her back twice as large as any of the men. By the looks of their clothes they had been traveling for some distance. The distrust in their eyes as they looked about the camp was obvious and they made no effort to hide their contempt. Maedhros felt it would be best to diffuse the situation quickly. He crossed over to their group and lowered his head as he spoke.

"Huglgla baruk Khazâd. Who among you may I call èzùkhas of your company?"

Maedhros looked up as he finished speaking and found it fascinating how a race of peoples so small could make it appear like they were looking down upon you. One of the dwarves stepped forward and dropped the blade end of his sword into the ground, resting his hands on the hilt as he spoke.

"I am Starrak, son of Thomek and I lead here, though there is no need to call me chief," he said as he regarded Maedhros a little more closely. "To whom do I speak who has such familiarity with our tongue." Maedhros noticed how this was not a question.

"I am Maedhros, son of Feanor. This is my camp and I welcome you." Starrak blinked when he heard his name and nodded his head.

"Ah yes," said Starrak. "Barazel."

This caused a slight stir with the company of dwarves behind Starrak. Maedhros suppressed a smile. 

_Barazel,_  he thought,  _red-of-red. They are of Azaghâl's people. Never were very clever with their naming._

Azaghâl, first ruler of Belegost. He was a loyal ally, a fierce fighter, and a great leader to his people. Maedhros had saved his life, and more importantly his treasure, from the Enemy some time ago. In gratitude, Azaghâl had given him his helm made by the greatest of dwarvish smiths, Telchar. Maedhros remembered the dragon upon it gleaming in the sun when he gave it to –

\- the sudden pain that shot through his right arm was so intense that he grasped his forearm before he knew what he was doing; his face tightening with pain. 

_Stop thinking of the past,_  he thought vehemently to himself.

He glanced at Starrak to see the dwarf squinting at him curiously. Maedhros, who had some understanding of the nature of dwarves, pulled his cloak back revealing the stump where his hand used to be at the end of his right arm.

"Forgive me," he said, "old wounds." As Maedhros pulled the cloak back over his arm, several of the elves that stood by glanced away or turned their heads all together. Whether out of repect or revulsion, Maedhros did not know nor did he care. Starrak, on the other hand simply harrumphed in acknowledgement while the dwarves behind him chuckled.

"Askad ubùrûsh," he said unimpressed. "The shadow pain. Yes, Yes, I know this." He reached down and lifted the leg of his trousers and tapped his sword on the wooden peg leg beneath them. One of what he thought was a male dwarf behind him came forward to show off his prosthetic arm that was fitted with a hammer on the end. The reactions of the elves around them elicited more laughter from the dwarves. 

_Looks as if I am amoung equals,_ though Maedhros dryly.  _Wonderful. At least the tension is broken._  He stood up straight before Starrak and spoke again.

"Welcome Starrak, son of Thomek. If you and your party have supplies that need replenishing, I offer you whatever I have. I invite you to join me in my tent so that I may find out any news from the road."

"Thank you Barazel. I accept your offer." Starrak then turned to the dwarves behind him and his hands flashed as he signed in iglishmek, the dwarvish sign language. They nodded and relaxed their stance but still looked on the elves with not so subtle contempt in their eyes. Starrak signaled to one of is men and they followed Maedhros into his tent.

The tent was not overly large. Maedhros did not carry much when on these forays into the wild, so as to make travel that much quicker and easier. But it was large enough to accommodate a table with chairs. He had a space laid out with food and wine for his guests. The two smaller chairs he had set out were brought for when Maglor would come with the peredhil. He felt they would suit the dwarves just fine. Maedhros gestured for them to take a seat and began to pour some wine. As they got settled he took this moment to study his guests.

Starrak was a broad dwarf, much like the shape of the majority of his people. He took off his helm to reveal a full head of grey hair pulled back into a loose braid. His beard, which was also solid grey, fell down to his waist and covered the majority of his girth. He wore a shirt of mail underneath a leather jerkin and a belt that strapped over his shoulder and was covered with knives. And all of this was covered under a thick traveling coat of fur that reached almost to the floor. His companion had long white hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. And, in a surprising turn to Maedhros, no beard, just two long sideburns that grew somewhat small and scraggely down in front of his ears. He was almost evenly matched in dress with Starrak except instead of a sword, there were two large axes strapped to his back. 

_Two little mobile armories_ , thought Maedhros. After they had made themselves comfortable, Maedhros handed them each a goblet and took a seat across from them. Thannor took up post just inside the tent at the entrance. Starrak took a deep gulp of his drink and spoke first.

"I thank you for your hospitality, lord Maedhros. It is not a common thing between our peoples in this day and age. Allow me to introduce to you my wife, Belmaea. I hope 'tis no bother that I brought her with me."

Maedhros made sure to control is expression very, very carefully. He was glad that Thannor was standing behind them and out of their line of site.

"Of course not, master Starrak. You are both very welcome." He turned to Starrak's wife and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "My lady." Starraks wife guffawed at the term.

"You will call me Belmaea, good sir. No need for your fancy airs." She chuckled to herself as she drank her wine. Starrak simply smiled into his cup and stared at Maedhros.

"Of course, Belmaea," Maedhros said politely. "You are of Thrár's tribe, yes? Tell me, what brings you this far from Belegost and have you any news from your travels?"

This question brought both dwarves to a halt in their laughter. Belmaea looked at her husband and said nothing. Starrak simply stared at Maedhros for a moment before he spoke.

"You know, my father told me great stories about you." If Maedhros was taken aback, he showed nothing. He simply allowed Starrak to talk. "You'd not know this, but he was a part of the guard you aided with our King Azaghál."

And that is how the next hour or so went. With Starrak telling stories of how his father rode out with their king and the mighty prince of the Noldor that came to their aide. He remembered when his father rode out again with their king to answer the call for the last union of dwarves, elves, and men against the Enemy.

Maedhros knew this union well.

Belmaea would occasionally interject, telling Starrak that he had it all wrong and correct a name or date of a certain event. They talked of battles past and allies that were lost. It was not lost upon Maedhros that they never once touched upon the topics of the treacherous acts of the dwarves of Nogrod or the evil of the kinslayings. And for this Maedhros was grateful.

It was several carafes of wine later before Starrak, who was very red in the face by this point, even began to touch on why they were traveling. They were coming from the coast, from the Isle of Balar. They had been engaged in work for the High King Gil-Galad and Cirdan the shipwright. They were assisting the high lords with their armories. They were the last few of their kind who would come into contact, or much less offer service to the elves. A nasty business dealing with some of those Sindar as far as Belmaea was concerned, but good money. Orcs roamed freely and unchecked through most of Beleriand making travel through there perilous for most. But Starrak said that his group were not like most and knew that if he could make it to Amon Ereb, that there were still points of safety there and some paths not as dangerous. Not the choice he would have preferred mind you, taking such a dangerous road, but they had need for haste to return to Belegost, what with the summons that they carried and a war coming.

It took a moment for Maedhros to realize that Starrak had abruptly stopped speaking. While the wine did not affect Maedhros in the least, the constant droning of Starrak's voice had begun to lull him into a semi-conscious state. He suddenly realized that the dwarf had let something slip in his rambling. Belmaea had nearly choked on her wine and sat there with wide and wary eyes that darted between Starrak and Maedhros. Starrak simply put his cup down and said nothing. Maedhros let the silence hang in the air for a moment before he spoke.

"What war."

 

* * *

 

Maedhros stood at the entrance of his tent and watched the party of dwarves head off into the distance. The parchment in his hand bore down on his person heavier than any chain in Thangorodrim.

Starrak had stood and stared at Maedhros defiantly, letting him know that he would tell him what he wanted him to know and nothing more. He went on to say how he was in Balar when the summons had come to the High King Gil-Galad. How it bore the seal of Eönwë himself, chief of the Maiar, herald and banner-bearer to Manwë. It announced the coming of the Valar to Beleriand and summoned now all Elves, Men, Dwarves, beasts and birds unto his standard who did not elect to fight for Morgoth _._  He said that Gil-Galad then released him from his task so that he may deliver this summons to his own people. Starrak had stated how he had thought this would please the High King, but instead he said Gil-Galad only had a look of sorrow. This is where Starrak gave pause and looked to Maedhros with genuine remorse; all trace of defiance was gone from his eyes.

"I am sorry Barazel, please believe me when I say I am sorry, but . . . the Valar have decreed . . . none of the Noldor in exile may join. Not even the High King himself."

Maedhros stood in the mid-morning sun and stared into the sky. Starrak was right. The High King of the Noldor would not join. He would remain dispossessed, constantly reminded of the failure and ruin he had brought to his kin. Maedros looked down at the parchment in his hand and called out to Thannor.

"Strike camp. We leave within the hour." He turned and retreated into his tent.

 

* * *

 

_She could hear music again. It surrounded her, wrapping around her, covering her in calm and snuffing out the nightmares that tormented her endlessly. There was no pain, no fear. She felt herself float with the music as it cradled her in a gentle embrace. She wanted to touch it, to hold it. She almost thought she could. She struggled to open her eyes. She wanted to see it moving around her. She was sure she would be able to. Where were Evon and Dannil? They should see this too. Her eyes fluttered and she fought to focus. Through the haze she saw a figure standing over her and reached out thinking that perhaps this was the source of the music she heard. The figure turned and she was confronted with a brilliant light that seemed so familiar. She felt what she thought was a hand on the side of her face and forced herself to focus. It was then when she saw the eyes. Those eyes! They were silver and gray held the light of thousands of stars in them. She felt as if they looked into her very being. As she began to focus slightly, she could start to see a face around those eyes. She reached up and gently brushed her fingers along the cheek of the being before her. It was a beautiful face. Far too beautiful to be real. This is not real, she thought. This is a dream and I do not want to wake. The hand that held her face moved away and the vision before her pulled back, leaving a sort of emptiness in its absence. Just a dream, she thought again. She closed her eyes and the music wrapped itself around her once more until a sleep free of dark visions took her to rest._

 


	3. Chapter 3

"You must be aware of your surroundings Elros," said Maglor, "pay attention." Elrond held out his hand to help his brother up from the ground but Elros swatted his brother's hand away and pulled himself up on his own.

"You used the stump to trip me," exclaimed Elros as he snatched his practice sword from the ground. "That is cheating!" He brushed himself off and glowered at Maglor as he wiped the sweat from his eyes. His shirt was soaked from exertion and his breeches had the beginning of a small tear at the knee. Maglor stood in the sun, his tunic and breeches showing no sign of wear much less moisture. He looked down and flicked a piece of dirt off of his boot with the practice sword.

"Sending an opponent backward over an obstacle is always a good thing. If you would-,"

Maglor smoothly dropped down and swept his leg underneath the oncoming Elros, simultaneously avoiding the young peredhil's sudden surprise attack and sending him sprawling once again.

"Your hands and shoulders tense when you are about to strike," said Maglor as he straightened back up. "Stop glancing in the direction you that are going to move."

Elros picked himself up again and turned to face Maglor. He dropped down into his fighting stance, raising his sword to a high ward position. They continued to spar in the round; Elros pressing his attack and Maglor parrying effortlessly. So effortlessly that Elros became increasingly frustrated and in a desperate attempt to catch Maglor off guard, he leapt at him in the air, swinging his sword over his head. Maglor easily avoided the attack and smacked Elros across the shins for good measure. Elros cried out, dropping his sword and grabbing his leg as he hopped around in a circle.

"Your feet belong on the ground in a sword fight Elros." said Maglor. Elros gave Maglor a disgruntled look.

"My leg!" he cried indignantly.

"Legs are targets," replied Maglor. "A combatant can win simply by letting an opponent bleed out after a slash to the leg."

Elros rubbed his shins while giving Maglor a rather sullen look.

"Oh, stop your pouting. We have all taken our hits today." said Elrond, who was nursing a nice bruise on the side of his face himself. Maglor looked to the sky and saw the sun had moved high above.

"Come," said Maglor, "this will be enough for today. It is time to lunch and when you are hungry, you are irritable. Gather your things and see to Evon."

The child had been sitting on the outskirts of the sparring circle, having his own lessons with some of the small wooden soldiers that Elros had carved for him. Elrond turned and scooped him up, swinging him around so he could ride on his back. It was the child's favorite mode of transportation. Evon laughed and wrapped his arms around Elrond's neck, resting his tiny chin on the older boy's shoulder.

Elros began to limp to the center of the ring, making quite a show of it, and retrieved his sword. As he crossed back, upon reaching the center of the ring were Maglor stood he suddenly spun around and brought his sword down towards Maglors leg. Maglor pivoted on his foot, catching Elros's sword with his own and parried the blow all the way back over the elfin's head. With an almost casual flick of his wrist he popped the sword out of Elros's hand. Elros immediately leapt several feet back to avoid the blow that was aimed at his midsection. Maglor lowered his sword and looked down at Elros who was on the ground yet again. Elros graced him with a lopsided grin and blew his long dark hair out of his face.

"I will tag you eventually," he said, smile widening as he looked up at Maglor. Maglor extended his hand to him and hoisted him onto his feet.

"Yes, I am sure you will . . . eventually," he answered. Elros's smile widened even more, if that was possible, and loped over to retrieve his sword yet again.

"Maglor," he called, "when will Maedhros return? He said he would work the long-staves with me."

Maglor sighed. He could feel Elrond's eyes boring into the back of his head. "I cannot say Elros, because I do not know." That was the truth. Maedhros came and went most unpredictably these days. He could be back at the main encampment at Amon Ereb for days before Maglor would know of it, and then disappear just as suddenly.

"He is watching for the coming of the Valar isn't he."

Maglor turned to look at Elrond. The young elf stood there with Evon, face impassive.

"Gather you things and go inside. Evon looks to be falling asleep. If Maedhros is unable, I will work the staves with you tomorrow Elros."

Maglor watched the three children leave. Children. He was not sure if he could call the peredhil that for much longer. By all appearances they looked to about twelve to thirteen, exceptionally tall but still youthful. Intellectually they were far more mature although not immune to childish behavior. Their elven nature was beginning to come through and most notably with Elrond. Maglor felt that there could be great power in him. He and his brother are descendants of Melian after all; the Magic is in their blood.

Ever since Maedhros had announced the summons to the elves and men of their encampment, the twins had been intrigued. They had been asking questions about the Valar night and day. They desperately wanted to see them. Maglor worried they might even try to ride out to join. "One day you will," he had told them, "when you are older." Elros feared that it would be too late and Maglor hoped he was right, even though he knew better. The Valar are the only beings capable of defeating Morgoth. Maglor knew this now. But victory will not come swiftly or easily, and he feared the devastation to come. Morgoth will certainly destroy everything within his reach before he accepts defeat. He will not go quietly. Maglor sighed. He can do nothing about this. It was beyond him to intervene in any way. He would continue to raise the peredhil in the hopes that they will make better decisions than he. 

_Best to concern yourself with the present than obsess on the questions of the future,_ he thought.

As he walked into the main courtyard of the modest keep that was home, he came to an abrupt stop. There in the center of the courtyard stood a small, pale atani woman. Evon's mother.

Maglor did not move as he observed her. This was the first time that he knew of that he had ever seen her out of the study since she had regained consciousness.

It had been a difficult time for Evon and the twins. Even though she was awake, she sat in an almost catatonic state. Not moving, or speaking, just blankly staring at nothing. Sometimes she would look down at Evon and stare at the child and maybe place a hand upon his head. Other times she would hold him and sob uncontrollably. Evenings were no better. It was difficult to watch because the boy so desperately wanted his mother's touch. The child would become almost inconsolable. Even Maedhros had noticed, mumbling something about her stupor before he would disappear again.

Things had become so bad that Elros had made the decision that Evon would stay with them at night in their chambers. Maglor did not argue. Elrond and Elros both had come to care for the child and took great efforts in his well being. Every evening they would take Evon in to say good night to his mother then walk him to their rooms where they would tuck in him bed and wait for Maglor to come with his harp. This had been going on for over a month now.

Maglor took a seat on the stone bench on the perimeter of the courtyard. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands together he studied the woman. She stood in the center, her faced turned up into the light of the sun, eyes closed. She looked frail and her face gaunt. Even from here he could see the dark circles under eyes. She was neither eating nor sleeping enough. He would have to talk to Hestil about finding something to aid in her rest at night. He noticed how the woman's oversized gown hung loosely to her tiny frame and pooled around her feet. Perhaps he will speak to Hestil about properly fitted clothing as well.

As he glanced back to her face he realized that she was staring directly at him now. He sat up straight, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had been caught off guard. She stood there staring at him with an uncertain look in her eyes for several minutes. At first Maglor thought that she may turn the other way and run, but instead she began to approach him hesitantly.

Maglor raised himself up to meet her but noticed how she froze momentarily when he stood and decided to let her cover the distance between them. As she began walking towards him again he could see the toll fatigue had taken on her person even more plainly. She looked emaciated and her long dark hair that was pulled back in several plaits looked to need a good rinsing; the scars on her neck and arms were healed but still red and puckered. He noticed how her large dark eyes darted around the courtyard as she approached him, almost as if she were looking for someone else and he wondered if he should send for Evon. When she finally reached him, he took in her appearance again and chided himself for not seeing fully to her needs. 

_Proper fitting attire and bath,_  he thought.  _I will see that Hestil takes care of this tonight._  

He held his hands together behind his back and waited for her to speak. She stood there; dark eyes still filled with uncertainty and started to sway to the point that Maglor thought she may faint. But she steadied herself, looked at him for a moment, and then brought one hand up to her throat while the other touched her mouth. When he just looked at her puzzled, she tapped her hand against her throat and mouth again. Suddenly the realization struck Maglor and his eyebrows rose slightly. 

_The wound on her neck_ , he thought,  _she cannot speak_. He smiled and took her hand.

"I understand. Are you having some discomfort? I will send for Hestil if you wish."

She stared at him, her eyes widening slightly before she shook her head no and pulled her hand gently from his. She looked at him again as if unsure what to do next. After another moment she began to gesture with her hand out, palm down, as if she were showing him how high something was from the ground. Her hand was low, below her waist. This time Maglor stared at her for only an instant before he knew what she was trying to ask him.

"Evon?" he asked. She nodded eagerly.

"He is well taken care of, do not worry yourself. Would you like for me to bring him?"

Again she shook her head no and gave him a small smile, the concern in her eyes lessoned somewhat. She seemed to stop and think before she gestured again. This time she tried to show him how high something was from the ground except her hand was raised well above her head. Maglor looked up at her hand, which was barely at eye level for him, and looked back down at her, at a loss. She dropped her hand down and tapped her finger to her mouth as if frustrated over what to do next. Suddenly she pointed to Maglor's eyes and hair before she raised her hand back over her head again. Maglor just stood there completely dumbfounded as she kept pointing to his eyes and then gesturing how tall whatever it was, was. She dropped her hands exasperated, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Maglor was not sure what to do. 

_Eyes and tall,_  he thought. _Eyes and hair and tall? My eyes and hair and tall? My eyes and hair are tall? Perhaps I should have Hestil check her head for lingering injuries as well. What could she –_ suddenly Maglor realized not what, but who she may be trying to ask about.

"Maitimo?" It was not really a question to her; it was more of a thought that was spoken out loud. When he said the name she looked at him, her turn to stare dumbfounded. Maglor looked at her curiously.

"My eyes with different hair?" he asked. Her eyes widened and she nodded slightly.

"Red hair and very tall?" he asked again. This time her eyes grew very wide and she nodded yes a little more vigorously. Maglor smiled and shook his head at the bizarre turn this game had taken.

"Maedhros," he said. "He is not here." She seemed somewhat releaved at this answer. He would have laughed out loud if not for the utter confusion he felt when it came to trying to figure out why she would be interested in Maitimo. Could she remember when he found her and Evon? It was a riddle for another time though for Maglor noticed that she had taken up their little game again. She tugged at his sleeve and held her hand abover her waist again.

"Evon," he said and she nodded yes. He took her by the hand. "I will take you to him." He stopped when he realized she resisted, pulling his arm to get his attention. He looked back at her, curiosity becoming concern when he saw the pained expression on her face. She held her hand waist high and then raised it up level with her chest. She then held up two fingers. Maglor paused for a moment and nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said, "of course. Come with me."

He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm and led her to the outskirts of the encampment. They walked to an area of land where a small mound dotted with tiny white flowers lay shaded underneath the bows of a great old tree. Maglor stood back as she knelt at the foot of that tiny mound with her head in her hands, sobbing softly.

He turned away and looked to the ground, suddenly feeling like an intruder to her pain. The memory of when Maitimo mourned the loss of Findekáno came rushing back to him. Of when he found his brother sitting in the exact same position, bent over in anguish. That loss had almost been more than he could bear. Maglor had stayed with his brother for many a night after that, holding him through his grief. 

_Oh Maitimo, we have lost so much,_ he thought. _Brothers, cousins, uncles, friends, a father. It will never end for us will it?_

Maglor felt a faint touch to the back of his arm. He pulled himself from his melancholy and turned to see the large dark eyes staring up at him. He was uncertain of exactly how long he had waited, but the sun was getting low in the sky and dusk would soon be upon them. He took her hand and placed it again in the crook of his arm and with one last look back at the grave of her son, they left.

 

* * *

 

She sat alone on a bench in the courtyard that was off of her room.

She felt better outside. From outside she could see the sun and the sky and found the familiarity comforting. She felt better today, more herself. Last night she was able to take a meal with her son and not breakdown in uncontrollable sobbing. This morning she found a bath had been prepared and fine clothes had been laid out for her. She sat now drying her hair in the sun in a dress far superior than any she had ever owned.

Evon had been outfitted in clothes as well and looked to her more like a little prince than her child. He seemed very happy to be here with his new friends. Every so often he would run over to where she sat and lay his head on her lap for a brief second and then run back to their game. She watched him play with the two young elf lords in the yard.

At least she thought they were young, the more she stared at them the more uncertain she became in their age. They had the same ageless quality as all elves had and yet as they played with Evon, she could see youth in their actions and words. They almost seemed to be Dannil's age.

At the very thought of her eldest son's name she clenched her hands in to fists and closed her eyes.  _Not now,_ she thought, the tears threatening to flow again.  _I will not do this now._  

She took several slow deep breathes and forced her emotions in check. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the elf lord staring at her fixedly. She smiled and waved away his concern, quickly turning her attention back to the boys in the yard. She knew he still watched her but refused to turn in his direction. She found she could not stare at the elves in this encampment for too long or else her head would begin to swim. She had never even seen elves up close before much less be a guest at the home of one. The stories she had heard of elves as a child had always frightened her.

They were as old as time and would never die, and when they would look at you it was as if they could see into you and judge your very soul. They seemed to fight amongst themselves as much as they fought orcs and beware to anyone who interfered.

When she had come across the elf lord in the main courtyard, she was unsure if she would even be able to approach him. When he stood up as she came over to him, she became so overwhelmed that she thought she might run away.

This was a great elvin lord before her and he was tall and mighty and had a light about his person that the stories of her youth did not even come close to in their description. And when he spoke, all other sounds became an insignificant noise in the background. His hair was long and dark and his skin fair and his eyes held the light of the stars and were of a color she had never seen before.

No . . . that was not true. She had seen eyes like his before. But the fire in his was different than the other. There was softness in the dark one's eyes. Not weakness or even gentleness, but a soft edge to his fire. As if it had been worn away somewhat and now was . . . well, was . . . tired. She sighed. She did not know what it was. What she did know is that the dark one did not frighten her the way the red one did.

She felt like some foolish child to ever have thought he was some sort of angel sent to save her. When she awoke from yet another nightmare two nights ago to find him standing in her room she thought that she was still dreaming. She had sat up in her bed, gasping for breath and covered in sweat, her hands grasping at her throat in a silent scream when she saw him.

He stood in the soft, dim glow of one of those strange lanterns that adorned the halls of this home. He stood there staring at her for what seemed an eternity. His fair, pale skin was a stark contrast to the dark red of his hair. His face was perfect angles of high cheekbones and a strong jaw line. 

_He is beautiful,_ she had thought. _He is the most beautiful cre -,_ that was about as far as she had got with that thought because in three great strides he had crossed the room and now stood over her. She heard herself give out some wheezy squeak of surprise and crawled backwards to the corner of the bed, her back against the wall. He had gone from fair to fell in three quick steps and had become one of the terrifying elves from her childhood stories.  _Gods he is tall,_ is all she could think as she looked at this fierce creature that loomed over her. She looked at his eyes and shrunk back from the fire that burned there. And then he spoke.

"Your son needs you. Pull yourself from this despair and tend to the living. You can dwell no more among the dead."

And then he left. She had sat up most of the night after that. Sleeping sporadically until dawn broke. The next day she had left her room and stepped out into the sun.

The giant red headed monster was right though, this is where she should be. Where she needed to be.

She looked down to see her son had brought her a piece of fruit that needed the skin peeled off. As she pulled her him up onto her lap and began tearing away the skin she was surprised to notice the two brothers had taken a seat upon the ground near her feet and were peeling their own share. She leaned over and tapped the one who smiled a lot on the shoulder. He looked up at her with surprise and curiosity. She pointed at him. He just looked at her. So she pointed at him again, and again, and again. He smiled at her and turned to his brother.

"Is she daft?" he asked still smiling. She felt her mouth drop open before she could stop it. The serious one gave him an exasperated look.

"She is trying to ask you your name." he said shaking his head.

"Ah yes, of course! I am Elros," he said gracing her with one of the most charming grins she had ever seen. "And this lout," he said as he kicked the other's foot, "is my brother Elrond." Elrond smiled at her while throwing a peel at his brother. "Over there is . . . wait, where did Maglor go?"

She looked around the courtyard but did not see their father. She had not even noticed he left. But it was a small matter at the moment. The introductions had been reduced to a small food fight as the two brothers began to wrestle. She kissed the top of her son's head while Evon laughed and began tearing the fruit into small pieces for him to eat.

 

* * *

 

Maedhros forced himself to watch the woman in the courtyard despite the hollow pain it caused in his chest. She was finally interacting with her son and the world around her. That had been his intention. Just like so many others, she suffered from loss but that was no reason not to continue to live. Someone was depending on her and while she had certainly earned the right to grieve, she did not earn the right to give up.

But now all he desired was for her to go away. He wanted to return to her room and go back to the dark and away from the light. She had washed herself and found properly fitting attire. Her hair was clean and portions were pulled back in small plaits around her face. He could see the rich dark tones of her hair; he could see that it was streaked with golden highlights from standing under the sun. It made her hair look as if it were braided with gold. 

_I have to braid my hair with gold so I am not lost in the shadow of Russandol!_  

Findekáno had found that very amusing, having always envied Maidhros's hair. His laughter rang through his head and felt like a blow to his stomach, taking the air out of him. Maedhros fell back against the wall, his legs going weak; he slowly slid down and collapsed on the floor.

The tunnel vision was happening again.

He could not see anything.

His head spun and darkness began to close in around him.

"Maitimo!" Hands gripped both sides of his face.

"Findekáno?" He searched in the darkness for the voice.

"Maitimo! Hear me!" He struggled to focus and saw a face before him. His right arm pulsed with pain. He was hanging. He could not get his hand out. He would have to cut it off. "Káno," he whispered.

"Maitimo please, it is your brother! Look at me!"

Maedhros looked and forced himself to focus. Macalaurë stared down at him, face filled with concern, eyes imploring.

Not Findekáno. Never again Findekáno. He was long lost. Maedhros dropped his head and began to weep. Maglor pulled his brother tightly to him and buried his face in the others hair. After a moment he let go and pulled his brother to his feet. They stood foreheads pressed together, Maglor's hands resting on his Maedhros's shoulders. "Come Maitimo" he said and led his older brother away like a child.

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you sure?" she asked again. Her voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper but the two elves in room could hear her just fine.

"He is fine," answered Elrond, looking up from his book in the corner. "We will find you if he should wake."

"Besides," said Elros, "he very good at waking us in the morn. Well, at least myself anyway. I am not certain that Elrond even sleeps anymore."

If Elrond was at all bothered by his sibling's comments he showed nothing. He simply turned the page of the book he was reading. She bent down and kissed the sleeping child's head and pulled the covers up around him some more. He was used to sleeping in the same room with the other boys now and did seem happy here. Besides, she never slept that well anyway and when he did stay with her she only kept disturbing him with her constant restlessness.

She looked at the other two boys in the room. One at the table reading and the other sprawled across his bed, hands behind his head and eyes closed. She smiled, he would be fine here. They looked after him as if he was one of their own and she was not sure she could be anymore grateful for that. As she turned to leave, Elrond called out to her.

"Saeran, if you would like, tomorrow I could continue to tell you about the music of the Ainur?"

Two grey eyes peeked at her from behind the book they had been reading. From his bed across the room, Elros groaned and rolled over pulling a pillow over his head. She smiled and nodded yes. Nothing pleased Elrond more than discussing history, and nothing drove Elros out of his mind more than to listen to Elrond discuss said history.

Elrond smiled back and returned to his book, though not before he threw an imperious look at his brother.

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good night Saeran" they called back, almost in unison if not for Elros's muffled voice coming from under his pillow.

She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. More than likely they would not sleep. Much like the elves of this manor they did not need sleep the way the men of the encampment did. Sometimes they would sleep, eyes closed and on a bed much like Elros was when she left. And other times they would rest with eyes open, staring off at who knows where. She found that disturbing.

She was not even sure the lords of the keep slept at all. She had not seen them for several days. According to Elrond and Elros it was common for them to be gone for weeks at a time on patrols, although they did say it was rare for both of them to go at the same time. Usually one always remained behind at the keep while the other was out. But this time Maglor had joined his brother.

Not that she particularly minded. She found the lord Maglor pleasant enough. He would greet her in the halls and invite her to dine with them and would sometimes join her in small walks around the keep. The lord Maedhros on the other hand she rarely ever saw and when she did, it was the back of his cloak as he walked away. 

There had been a few times when she had thought she had seen him staring at her, but she could not be sure. Every once and a while she would try to sneak a look at him from across the room or some dark corner, but then she would breathe and he would immediately find her where ever she hid, leaving her to scurry quickly away.

She often wondered what he would do if she ran and stood in front of him, forcing him to greet her.  _Most likely step on me,_ she thought with a smile. _Best not to try it._

She came to the great hall and took a seat on one of the long cushioned benches that sat in front of the main fire pit in the center. It was the largest room in the keep and the only one with any kind of decor. Large tapestries adorned the walls with images of battles and elves and three great stars seemed to be on all of them. Those strange lanterns lined the walls casting off hardly any light at the moment as they were dimed somehow in the evenings. The hall was pretty much empty except for the occasional servant who would walk through on some last minute errand before retiring for the night. She saw the elf named Goweston who was in charge of the daily needs for the keep when both lords were away. He walked quickly past her with a nod of his head while talking to two other servants in the strange foreign tongue that the elves here spoke in. 

_Good night to you as well,_  she thought tartly.

This was who she ended up talking to when she went look for something to do during the day when she could not take sitting idle any longer. She was recovering from her physical wounds well enough but mentally she needed a task to keep her mind from things. Elrond and Elros had started giving Evon lessons during the afternoon to assist with their own tutelage, and while he was with them she desperately needed something to do.

Unfortunately, the steward was not much help and did not hide his annoyance at having to take time to assist her. When she had asked to see if she could help in the kitchens, Goweston was all too happy for her to go just as long as she left. When she finally got to the kitchens she found it was manned with three elves, all male, and all three stopped what they were doing to look at her. She stood in the doorway for a few moments staring at them and them staring right back at her. Once she felt that she could not feel any more awkward, she turned and left. She pretended that the soft chuckling she heard from the room behind her was her imagination.

After that, she went to the only other place she knew of, the healing house. It was a cozy little building just outside of the keep with the head healers dwelling attached to the side. She found that Hestil was more than happy to accept her help.

Saeran liked Hestil very much. While she was an elf and has that other worldly quality about that all of her people have, she was also very warm and open to everyone she saw. Saeran felt comfortable around her right away. She did not mind at all taking care of the menial tasks so Hestil could concentrate on other pressing matters.

Hestil also had two young ladies who would come in to assist her as well and Saeran was pleased to see they were not elves. There was only so much ethereal beauty one could take. Not that Kady and Janneth were plain, but they were young and could be silly. Their constant chatter and tendency to gossip helped to keep her from acknowledging her pain and they informed her of things she would not have known otherwise. Like how the lord Maglor was not the twins father. They had been shocked when they found out she did not know.

"Oh no Miss, he's not the boy's father!" Janneth had said with a shocked laugh.

"Certainly not," agreed Kady. "They're orphans."

"Sad story that," said Janneth.

"Tragic." Kady had added.

"Mmmm," agreed Janneth.

Saeran had just stood there staring at the two, completely lost. Again, they stared in shock.

"You don't know?" exclaimed Kady, scandalized. "They are the ones who orphaned the boys!"

"These are the sons of  _Feanor_!" whispered Janneth, hissing out the name Feanor. They were really getting into it now. Stopping what they were doing, eyes wide and leaning in for emphasis. "The lord Maedhros should be king of his kind but for all his great sins."

"Not right in the head that one –"

" – not since he was captured –"

" – and tortured –"

" - called kinslayers by their own kind –"

"That will be enough." Hestil stood in the doorway of the house, the warm and inviting demeanor she had shown earlier gone. She stared cooly at the two girls who had turned bright red before her. "You may go now. I will not need any more assistance for the day."

Kady and Janneth could not drop their things quick enough and head for the door. Saeran could not help but feel terrible and wanted to apologize but Hestil stopped her by handing her a vial.

"This is for your throat. Should help you regain some of your voice. I have mixed it with some honey to help the taste. When you come tomorrow we will see if it helps." With that she was done and left the room. Saeran stood there for a few seconds feeling even worse and thinking that maybe she should have just stayed in the kitchens.

When she had returned the next day, Hestil was back to her cheery and chatty self but Saeran noticed that Kady and Janneth were absent. But as the days went by, Saeran felt Hestil start to become more and more comfortable and they began to take a short time at the end of the day to chat. It was during one of these moments that Hestil finally spoke of what Saeran had heard.

"If you have any questions about the lords of Amon Ereb, ask me. I would not have you hear the idle one-sided gossip that some atani are wont to do."

Saeran looked at Hestil. She was a handsome woman with long dark hair tied into a knot at the nape of her neck. She was tall like all of her kind but much broader in the shoulders than many of their women were. Although there were no lines to her face, Saeran felt that she was much older than many of the elves here. She thought she saw what some would consider fine grey streaks in her hair. Saeran smiled at her.

"What would you tell me?" she asked in a raspy whisper. Hestil smiled back.

And that was how she found out much information on the two lords who had saved her and her child's life and taken them in. Hestil was very forthcoming with what she knew. The first talk they had, she told Saeran how she had come with the brother's and their father with her own family across the sea. She told Saeran about the terrible oath and the Doom of Mandos from which they all suffered. But none more so that the sons of Feanor.

The next time they sat down Hestil had told her of their deeds both noble and fell and the tragic deaths that followed the descendants of Finwë. Hestil also told her of Doriath and Sirion and how they had lost five of the seven brothers at these battles, two of whom used to be the former masters of this keep. This evening before Saeran left for the main keep Hestil had told her of her own loss. Her husband had been lost at a battle called Dagor Bragollach and her two sons at Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Her daughter still lived though she had left after the battle at the Havens to follow Gil-Galad's people. The burden of the brother's oath had become too much for her. Hestil had stopped there, not wanting to frighten Saeran.

Saeran sighed to herself thinking about that. She propped up some pillows and leaned back on the bench soaking in the warmth from the fire, her eyes becoming heavy. There was much blood in the brother's past. She wondered if this is where she and her son should be, not that they had anywhere else to go. They did save her life and cared for her son when she was unable. And in truth, who was she to judge, what with her own past. They even saw that Dannil received a proper burial. Her sweet, sweet Dannil.

She squeezed her eyes and fought back the tears. She rolled on to her side and pulled her knees up to her stomach and looked at the tapestries.

She liked coming to the hall when it was empty. Sometimes, when alone in her room, she felt as if the walls were closing in on her when she shut her eyes so she began to come here when she could not walk outside because of the cold. In here, the walls were too far away, the ceiling so far up you could not see it in the dark. The doors were huge and the locks heavy and the fierce elves on the tapestries were forever fighting off the monsters in the night, making it safe. One night she would be able to sleep in her room, just not tonight.

When she woke it was too her son climbing under the blanket that was spread out over her, his cold feet invading the warmth of the cocoon she was wrapped in.

"I thought you would be here," said Elros smiling. "What did I tell you? Evon excels at waking you with the sunrise!" Elros lowered himself to the ground with a grace that made Saeran jealous. She sat up and placed Evon on her lap and took a piece of the warm bread that Elros held out to her.  _Sunrise, eh?_   _I must have slept through the night._ She handed some bread to her son and smiled. _That is a good sign._  She looked at Elros.

"Did you sleep at all?" she whispered. She wished he had brought something to drink with him.

"As much as could be expected I suppose," Elros answered while chewing a mouthful of bread.

"Your brother?" she asked.

"Him? He never sleeps." She shook her head

"No, where is your brother," she said.

"Oh," said Eros, "he is with Maglor." She sat up, eyes wide. "They returned sometime in the night. I am sure they will all be along any moment now."

She almost jumped out of her skin at that.  _Be along any time now,_ she thought startled. _And me sleeping in front of a fire in a main hall like some scullery maid, and in the same clothes I wore yesterday no less._ She would have to get up and get changed and get Evon dressed immediately. She moved Evon from her lap and went to wrap the blanket around her when she froze.

She suddenly remembered that when she had come in to the hall she had no blanket on her person. Someone had laid this over her in the night while she slept. And it was no blanket. It was a cloak. A great red cloak with a large silver star with eight rays coming from it embroidered on the back. Saeran knew this cloak well because she had seen it many times in the halls of the keep, walking swiftly away from her. She noticed Elros looking at her curiously and quickly composed herself. She slung the cloak over one arm and scooped Evon up with the other.

"Go see to your breakfast," she told Elros, "I must get Evon and I dressed. Will you still be taking him riding at the same time?" Elros continued to stare at her with those strange elvin eyes, saying nothing. Frustration began to tickle the back of her head. She gave Elros a sharp kick to the leg.

"Well?" she rasped at him. That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts because he jumped up and looked at her with mock indignation.

"Yes my lady." He raised his hand up as if cowering from another potential blow. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Good. Now go. You are making my throat hurt."

She did not mean that but she was in a hurry to leave and she hated it when the twins looked at her like they knew too much. Elros simply flashed her one of his most winning smiles and loped off. 

_Better hide your daughters from that one_ , she thought and then turned and left for her room.

 

* * *

 

 

_The small party of riders entered the keep late into the night. They were a small group and all Noldo. Maedhros had wanted to move quickly so they had taken the bare minimum._

_They had ridden along the Andram searching for a straight sight line to the coast. They did not dare to go any closer nor did they need to for keen are the eyes of the elves and could easily see the coast from the long wall._

_A great host of white swan boats were led by the light of the silmaril in the sky. The banner of Eönwë led the procession followed by the banners of Finarfin and Ingwion. Thorondor, captain of the great birds of heaven led his host in the skies. And for just a little while the hope the party of riders felt upon seeing the might of the Valar quelled their feelings of despair._

_Now they returned to Amon Ereb unassaulted, for the Enemy had called his forces to him to prepare for war. They rode back in silence and entered the keep just as quietly, no horns to announce their return tonight. Without words the elves stabled their horses and silently left for their quarters. The brothers entered the keep through the main hall from a small entrance on the side. They walked in to find Elrond standing next to the fire that was almost out and a small figure sleeping on the bench behind him. They walked over to him, Maglor going straight over to Elrond while Maedhros went past him to stir the fire._

" _Did you see them," Elrond asked. Maglor looked past the peredhil to his brother who was staring at the figure on the bench._

" _Yes," said Maglor, "they have arrived." Elrond simply nodded._

" _I would like to know –"_

" _That," said Maedhros interrupting the boy "is not your brother."_

_Elrond turned and looked at the bench. "No," he said, "that is Saeran."_

_Maedhros knelt before the fire and began to stoke it once more, never looking up. "Saeran?" he asked._

" _Yes, that is her name." answered the boy._

" _How did you find out her name," said Maglor, looking now at the sleeping figure._

" _Well, it was not that hard really. I just asked." Elrond was growing impatient now. This is not what he wished to talk about. Maedhros stood up, eyes never leaving the fire._

" _She is speaking now," said Maglor almost to himself._

" _You have been gone for some time. It is only natural progress would have been made." Elrond sounded as if he were talking to school children who could not understand the simplest of instructions. "But what of –"_

" _Go on to your room. Now is not the time." Elrond froze and looked at Maedhros. Maglor could see the peredhil bristling where he stood._

" _We have been riding for some time Elrond," he said, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let us wash up and then I will tell you all you want to know."_

_Elrond stood defiantly still for a brief moment, and then turned and left for his room. Maglor sighed and looked at his brother. He could tell just by the way Maedhros was standing that he was not going to speak. As he left the main hall he paused to look back at his brother who stood next to the sleeping figure in the fire light._

_"Please get some rest Maitimo," he whispered softly, knowing his brother would hear, then turned and left._

_Maedhros waited till Maglor was gone before he turned and looked at the sleeping figure before him. She had curled herself up into a little ball, using her skirts to cover her feet. He reached up to his shoulder and took his cloak off and laid it over the sleeping woman. Kneeling down as he pulled the cloak up to her shoulders, he paused to move some of her hair from her face. He could see the gold highlights glinting in the firelight and felt the familiar hollow, emptiness in his chest. He ran is fingers lightly through her hair once more and lowered his head next to hers, breathing in a faint scent of lavender from her hair._

_He was so weary, so worn._ _He gently wound her hair around his fingers. He longed so badly to lie down next to this woman and simply feel another's warmth against his skin that he thought he may weep._

_But then the fire popped, and his head snapped up, pulling him from his reverie._

_He was being a fool. He felt this way why, because she reminded him of someone else? Of someone who was dead. Of someone he could not save. There is to be no peace for him. There will be no rest. He stood up and looked away from the sleeping woman. Disgusted with himself, he strode off out of the room._

_Several moments went by before Elrond stepped out from where he hid in the shadows, wiping away the tear that ran down his face._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Saeran smiled at the scene before her.

The small group sat in the center of the main hall. Maglor was strumming on a lute while Evon laughed and spun around in front of him. Elrond was leaning forward where he sat on one of the benches, elbows resting on his knees and Elros sat at his feet with his back against the bench, one leg stretched out while the other leg was propped up with his arm resting on his knee. She and her son had been here for two years now. It was hard for her at times to wrap her mind around that. Two years. And now Evon was turning four. She almost laughed out loud when the twins had found out. They were discussing what they were to do on their begetting day and she had asked what it meant. They had looked at her in surprise.

"You do not know of your begetting day?" Elrond had asked, his eyebrows rose slightly.

She had looked at them in confusion. "Well, I might, if you would just tell me what it is."

"It is the moment you come into being through both the will and love of Eru and the act of bodily union," said Elros matter-of-factly. It was Saeran's turn to raise her eyebrows, but a bit more than slightly.

"Ooh," she answered, looking away, eyes wide.

"When is Evon's?"

"Evon's what."

"Begetting day?"

"Ah, his . . . oh, um . . . well he, yes. . . I guess um . . . I mean I got, get . . . he . . .," the twins were just staring at her, their expressions seemed carefully neutral. "He will be another year older with the coming of the next warm season," she blurted out. "I am sorry but I am afraid we do not recognize that day the way you do." Now the twins stared at her in all out shock.

"But we are at the height of the warm season!" exclaimed Elros. "His day has already passed!" Elrond shook his head.

"You really must inform us of these things Saeran," said Elrond, his disappointment obvious in the tone of his voice. "Eldar or no, it is a day that should be marked. Are you even aware of yours?"

"That," she told him levelly, "is not your concern." Elros had laughed heartily at that.

And so, when the last of winter's chill had left the air the twins informed Saeran that they had talked to Maglor and that Evon's begetting day would be celebrated in a fortnight. Which is why they were here now, having a dinner of sweet cakes and a mulled honey wine.

Maglor had even come down from his nightly vigil. He and Maedhros would go to the highest point in Amon Ereb to keep tabs on the war that raged at the Sirion. Patrols were less now that the Enemy's forces were focused on the great host of the Valar and the brother's began to take more time at the keep. Both brothers were taking on much more of an interest in the twin's studies. But Saeran could not help but feel that there was an underlying sense of urgency with their lessons. Almost as if they felt some sort of pressure to pass on all that they knew and more.

Still, they were kind to Evon and allowed him to accompany them on several outings. Even Maedhros.

Once she had walked up on the twin's combat practice to see her son sitting on top of the great elf lord's shoulders as he called out forms to them. When Maedhros saw her across the clearing standing with eyes wide and mouth agape he simply reached up with one arm and quickly and carefully swept Evon down to the ground and scooted him along. He then turned his back to her and continued to call out forms to the twins. She had walked all the way back to the keep before she realized her mouth was still hanging open. She had hoped that after finding his cloak over her while she had slept in the hall that she could finally talk to him, show her gratitude for all he had done for her and sons. At least thank him for the cloak. When she had finally been able to work up the nerve to approach him with the cloak to thank him it had been torture. She knew he was in the keep and was resolved to return the cloak, finally finding him in the kitchen with those kitchen elves. When she walked in to the room all conversation stopped as four sets of eyes leveled at her.

"My lord, I would like to very much to thank you for your kindness."

He said nothing as she held out the cloak.

"I am would like to return this to you as I am certain you will have need for it."

Four sets of eyes, silently staring. She set the cloak down on the table and looked for the door.

"I would hate for you to be without it ... because of ... it's cold."

Still silence, although Saeran had thought the lord Maedhros may have cocked an eyebrow just slightly. She backed up towards the door. Upon reaching it she stopped and glanced nervously at the four sets of eyes.

"It's clean," she chirped as the turned and walked swiftly down the hall as she told herself that was not the sound of chuckling coming from the kitchen.

In the end though, nothing changed. If anything he seemed to avoid her even more, becoming even scarcer. She sighed. There was nothing to be done. Right now though, they were celebrating the life of her son, and that was more than enough for her.

Elrond and Elros started clapping as Maglor finished and set down the lute. Evon had spun himself around till he dropped down on his bottom, head wobbling as he tried to focus. Maglor smiled as he put a hand out to steady him. Suddenly, a low vibration could be felt coming from the floor and the hanging lamps above them began to sway slightly. Elros jumped up from where he sat and Maglor picked up Evon and raised a hand to the twins telling them to be still. And then, the vibration was gone and the lights above them slowly swayed to a stop. A few of the house servants came running into the main hall and Maglor turned to address them.

"Calm yourselves. It is done. Go back to your quarters," he turned to Thannor who had just entered the hall, "go to the stables and check the barracks, make sure all is well. This was a small one, no harm should be done." Thannor left for the stables and Maglor turned back to them. "Perhaps we should call it a night?" But Evon was not having it.

"Nooooooo! Enta," he said looking pleadingly at Maglor, placing his little hands on both sides of the elf's face, "máriello."

Elrond and Elros looked at each other beaming with pride and Maglor laughed out loud.

"By the light, he uses my own tongue against me! Your tutors have taught you too well. How can I say no?" Maglor set him down but Evon was not done quite yet. He looked up at Maglor.

"You will sing too?"

Elrond and Elros looked to Maglor now, smiles gone from their faces. Saeran called out her son's name, upset at his poor manners rather than out of knowledge of the silent boundary that had just been crossed. She called her son over to her but Maglor simply shook his head and knelt down in front of the child.

"No, no, he is right. This is his day and I have yet to give him a gift."

Saeran had started to feel nervous when she noticed how still Elrond and Elros were, but Maglor looked at Evon playfully, a little smile pulling at his lips. He kissed Evon on the top of his head, stood up and went back to his chair, picked up the harp and sat down.

Saeran picked up Evon and sat down settling him on her lap. She could not help but feel a little excited. Hestil had told her about Maglor's talent, calling him the greatest bard who ever lived. She had heard him play the harp but had yet to hear him sing. The twins had taken their seats again, their full attention on Maglor.

Maglor seemed to consider the harp for a moment before starting, and then he strummed some chords and the hall danced with music.

Saeran smiled and closed her eyes, letting the sound move around her. It lulled her and she found herself swaying slightly from side to side as Evon leaned back against her chest.

And then Maglor began to sing.

Saeran froze, completely still, eyes going wide and unable to move.

His voice was unlike any she had ever heard before. If she had thought that his playing was magic, then his singing was otherworldly. And he sang in the strange language of his people which only intensified the dreamlike state of the room. The lights around them seemed to dim in response to his voice, as if they did not want to create distractions from his song. Something touched her face and when she reached up she found her cheek was wet from tears she did not know she had shed. She looked around the room in amazement. Elrond sat straight up but his eyes were closed and his head slightly down like he was in prayer while Elros sat on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms around his legs, smiling. She looked around the room and saw that several of the servants had gathered in the back, some openly weeping.

But it was at the front of the great hall, to the side of the main entrance where her vision locked. Thannor had returned from the stables but was not alone. Standing next to him, leaning against the wall of the alcove that went to the side entrance was Maedhros. He stood there watching Maglor, his arms folded across his chest, head tilted slightly, smiling softly.

She was stunned. She had never seen him smile before. His entire person seemed lighter, younger to her. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck but loose strands fell about his face, adding to the youthful, relaxed air around him. Gone was the tightness that he carried around his eyes and mouth. The curve of his smile made his lips look full and soft and the lines around his eye seemed to disappear, easing away the harsh angles of his cheekbones that made him look so grim.

She imagined this is what he looked like before the evils of this world took hold, a time when he was happy and whole. It was in this moment that she could see the great prince that he was, and the king that he should have been.

It was also in this moment that she realized he was staring at her.

She gave a little start of surprise and looked away quickly, her face growing warm.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw that he was still staring at her. The warmth she felt in her face shot up ten degrees.

She pretended to adjust Evon in her lap and dared one more glance. Still staring. Her face was on fire now.

She gave up all pretext of subtlety and turned her back to him, placing all of her attention back to Maglor who was just finishing his song. She listened as the last note hung in the air almost as if the room itself did not want to release it, and then there was silence. Maglor set the harp down, stood up and walked over to where Saeran sat with Evon on her lap. He knelt down and placed his hand on the drowsy child's head.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," he said then backed away. Elrond walked from behind Maglor and placed his hand on Evon's head next.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," Elrond then stepped aside and Saeran looked over expecting to see Elros but saw Maedhros instead. He knelt down and placed his hand on Evon's head. She could not remember him being this close since that night he scared the wits out of her in her room. He leaned forward towards Evan, his head now inches from her own. She was sure that he could hear her heart pounding.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," he whispered and pulled back, his eyes meeting hers only for the briefest of seconds as he stood up and walked away. It was not till Elros came up next before her that she realized that she was holding her breath. Elros placed his hand on Evon's head.

"Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya," Elros grinned as he spoke; his eyes alight with mirth as he offered her his hand. "Shall I escort you to your chambers my lady?"

"Rogue" she said as she stood. He laughed and easily took a sleeping Evon from her arms. He and his brother were not quite yet fifteen and they already stood a head and a half taller than her.

"Allow me to take the little lord to his room Saeran. It is no bother."

She smiled and nodded to Elros and said goodnight to Elrond. After they left she turned to Maglor. He had returned to his seat in front of the fire. His legs were crossed and he reclined back, causing him to sink down somewhat in the seat. His chin was propped up in his right hand while his left dangled over the other side of the chair. The aura about him was relaxed and the fire cast a peculiar light in his eyes as he stared at it. She hesitated.

"Yes Saeran?"

"Forgive me . . . . I only wished to thank you," she said, "for the song."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Evons reminds me that perhaps there is still some good I can do in this world," he gave a little laugh as he said that and looked up at Saeran, "truly, it was my pleasure."

She said nothing, only nodded and tugged at the ties on the over skirt of her gown. He studied her for a moment, strange eyes considering her in the firelight.

"Is there something else?" he asked.

"I was just thinking that . . . you and the young lords have been so kind but . . . I can't, I don't want to be a burden and . . . well, perhaps it is time that we see to our own dwelling." She did not look up after she was done speaking, only continued to pull distractedly at her the ties. Maglor slowly straightened up, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

"Are you unhappy here?"

"No, no, of course not."

"Has something happened to make you feel this way?"

"No." Maglor noticed her hesitation.

"I am a grown woman. I can't continue to depend on the charity of others," she paused for a second, "that said, I would not want to go far, some place near Dannil maybe."

"You must do what you feel is right of course," he stood up and walked over to her, taking her hand in his. "You will always be welcome here . . . by all of us . . .you do know this yes?" Saeron said nothing, only stared at the floor.

"By all of us," he said again, emphasizing each word. She looked at him now, her eyes becoming blurry with the threat of tears. She pulled her hand from his and wrapped him in a quick embrace then left the hall.

* * *

 

Maglor watched Saeran leave, still somewhat surprised at what transpired.

It occurred to him that he knew very little about the atani woman. He sighed and shook his head, the second born were a mystery to him. Their time on this earth so short and fleeting that they lived either too recklessly or hidden away in fear. They wrapped themselves up in their passions so much that they would all too easily lose sight of right and wrong, driven by need.

He turned to go back to his seat by the fire and stopped.

Maedhros lounged languidly in his chair; his long legs were stretched out almost to the fire, his head resting in his left hand, one long finger running along the side of his face to his temple. He looked quite comfortable. Maglor narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips slightly at his brother and pulled another seat over near the fire, knocking the other's feet as he did so. If this bothered Maedhros he showed nothing, he simply looked at Maglor.

"This one was already warm," he said placidly. Maglor sniffed.

"I suppose you heard my earlier conversation?"

"I did."

"We will need to see to her wishes."

"No. Not yet."

Maglor raised a questioning eyebrow at his brother.

"There is a war raging up and down the Sirion, and while we are a decent distance away, the battles are shaking the foundation of the land all the way to the Blue Mountains. Not to mention deserters of the Enemies forces that crawl through here from time to time. It is not safe. She will have to wait." His tone brokered no argument and his logic was sound. 

_Very sound,_ thought Maglor. "She may not be too pleased hear this."

"She will learn to live with it."

Maglor studied his brother before he spoke. "Maitimo, why does this woman trouble you so?"

Maedhros said nothing at first. He simply rubbed at his temples and ran his hand down his face ending with his chin resting back in his hand and sighed.

"I do not know Macalaurë," he whispered sadly, shaking his head. "I do not know."

They sat in silence for some time, nothing but the occasional crack from the fire to disturb their peace.

"I have missed your singing. I am almost certain it was your voice that calmed the stables."

Maglor let out a small laugh. "And the hogs? Where they charmed as well?"

Maedhros smiled. "I did not get that far among the livestock. That song sounded familiar, you had performed it before yes?"

"I . . . am not sure . . . perhaps," said Maglor thinking back, "with Nolofinwë?"

Maedhros thought for a moment, "The feast?"

"Yes, that was it," Maglor nodded, the memory coming to him now. "Do you not remember? Even Artanis enjoyed the song. She was always so happy to see us."

Maedhros threw his head back and barked out a laugh. "Even more so when our uncle moved her and her brothers so we could be seated."

"She has changed her name you know," said Maglor. "In "shame" of the actions of certain Noldor, she goes by the Sindarin name Galadriel now, from Celeborn's people."

Maedhros scoffed at this and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Do not speak to me of little Nerwen. She has always been a vain, prideful girl. She refutes us not because of our actions but because we know why she truly came here in the first place. Her reasons are not as noble as she has led her people to believe."

Maglor looked back to the fire, memories continued dance around in his mind.

"That was the last time for that song, but not the last time you sang," said Maedhros, his attention on Maglor.

"No?" Maglor's brows came together in thought as he tried to recollect the last time he had taken up his voice in song.

"Moryo."

"Moryo? Ah yes! Carnistir's binding ceremony to . . . what was her name –" consternation furrowed Maglor's brow.

" – Iphandis -"

" – yes! Iphandis, I remember now. Where has she gone to?"

"Gil-Galad's people."

"Mmmm," replied Maglor lost in the memory. "Not the most pleasant union."

"It was not her fault," said Maedhros, leaning over to stoke life back to the fire. "Moryo loved another."

This took Maglor by surprise. "How do you know this?"

Maedhros shrugged. "You had but to look in his eyes to tell, although I could hear it in his voice as well. He had bound himself to her."

Now Maglor looked at Maedhros in all out shock.

"That is impossible," he said looking at Maedhros incredulously. "He could not have wed Iphandis otherwise!"

Maedhros smiled and gave his brother a sideways glance as he continued to stir the fire. "He could and he did. She had long passed when he wed Iphandis. She was of the second born."

Maglor's mouth dropped open at that, his eyes wide. He leaned forward and looked at Maedhros in disbelief.

"Second born?! Carnistir? I . . . but . . . how? When?!"

Maedhros leaned back in his chair, a wide smile across his face now as he enjoyed his brother's reaction. "It was some time ago. Around the time he saved that little tribe of atani somewhere in east Thargelion. Did you never notice how he began spending more and more time away from the mountains?"

Maglor flopped back against his chair, his mouth hanging open.

"Huh," he replied, still shaking his head. "He never said anything."

"Moryo had always been somewhat of a loner, never one to share. No doubt he did not feel it was our business," said Maedhros. "And he was most likely afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?"

"Of what our reactions would be." Maedhros stared intently at his brother from his seat across the fire. "What would your reaction have been Macalaurë?" Amusement was gone from his expression now.

Maglor still stared into the fire in disbelief, shaking his head at the question before him.

"I . . . I do not know. I mean, I most certainly would have counseled against it. This type of union does not seem to end well. Just look at Aikanáro," Maglor paused for a moment in thought, "but I suppose if it made him happy . . ."

"Happy." Maedhros spit out the word. "Do we even deserve to be happy? We who have been denied all opportunities at happiness."

Maglor sighed. "I cannot say Maitimo. I know, thanks to the peredhil, I have felt joy but I cannot remember the last time I was happy." Maglor looked up at Maedhros. "Was Carnistir happy," he asked.

Maedhros looked forlornly back at Maglor.

"Yes," he said sadly. "Yes he was."

 

* * *

 

 

Saeran sat under the large old tree that shaded the area where Dannil lay. She enjoyed coming here on the days Hestil did not need her. Evon was happily enjoying his riding time with Elros and she would take these moments to remember her eldest son.

The days were getting warmer and more pleasant and the tremors brought on by the battles to the west seemed to be lessoning of late. She chose to spend her time here rather than in the keep. She was still bitter about Maedhros's decree on anyone leaving. Any hope for her own space put on hold indefinitely.

Perhaps that is also why she came out here so often, her own little attempt to rebel for he had also sent out the order for no one to stray further than the main encampment. It was bad enough that he would not allow her to move out of the keep but to keep her from going to visit the grave of her son was unacceptable. If he had a problem with her actions he could come and tell her himself. Something she did not see happening since he avoided any sort of contact with her as if she were riddled with the plague. She had thought about turning it into a sort of sport, trying to see just how close she could get before he would leave her presence. She decided against it, likening it to poking a sleeping bear.

She sighed and leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree and continued to weave the small white flowers together into a small wreath, a little trick from her childhood. She had thought about joining the many refugees that came through on their way to dwarven road that cut through the mountains. While the elven travelers tended to avoid Amon Ereb, their mortal counterparts were more than fine with stopping to rest or receive aid and pass on information.

The high-king Gil-Galad had been slowly sending many of his people on this path with the intent to relocate to Ered Luin. The battles that raged along the river Sirion were ravaging West Beleriand, including the Bay of Balar. They spoke of terrible things. Demons that came up from the ground and dragons that terrorized the skies, leaving devastating fires in their wake.

But they also told of great acts of heroics of the Valar and the forces of Aman. Of Thorondor and Eönwë, and the two great kings Finarfin captain of the Noldor and Ingwion, captain of the Vanyar. They also spoke of the deeds performed by Eärendil, in his ship Vingilótë and the great star that shined bright upon his brow.

These stories always seemed to upset Elros. It was the only time she could ever recollect him looking angry. Any and all traces of his ever present smile gone; he would simply get up and leave the room at even the mention of the name. When Saeran asked Elrond who was Eärendil, the young elf answered her in a detached manor.

"Our father," was all he said.

Saeran never asked again.

She looked up at the sky and sighed again. Everyone has something they do not wish to confront she supposed. Herself included.

She picked herself up from the ground and walked over to the small mound and laid the tiny wreath she had made on top of it. Looking up at the sky, she reached her arms above her to stretch some and made the decision to head back when her legs began to vibrate. Confused, she looked down at her feet thinking that perhaps her legs were asleep when she noticed that the low sweeping branches of the tree had begun to sway and smaller twigs and branches began to fall. 

_Another tremor,_ she thought and moved to get away from the tree as larger debris began to come down. But when she let go of the trunk she found that her footing became even more unstable as roots began to protrude from the ground underneath her. She dropped down to all fours in an attempt to crawl away, the vibrations from the earth reverberating through her limbs. A loud cracking noise came from above her and she felt panic take over as she pushed herself away from the tree as hard as she could, propelling herself forward. She heard the branch land somewhere behind her but did not look back, concentrating only on moving forward and away.

The ground lurched under her feet again sending her rolling into what she thought was a rock or boulder, but when the rock/boulder grabbed her by the arm, yanking her up and pulling her against it, she knew otherwise. The earth rattled for several more seconds before coming to a slow stop.

Saeran did not move. She knew they were kneeling and that she clung desperately to whoever held her. She noticed that they did not relax their grip on her either. She turned her head and saw the deep red of a cloak and the small gold embroidery along the collar of the grey riding mantel they wore.

Her heart began to pound so hard she could hear her pulse in her ears.

A hand clasped her chin and pulled her face upwards. Her eyes slowly went up catching sight of the dark red hair first and then continued to run up the faint scar lines on his neck and up along his face to his eyes. He studied her intently at first, looking for sign of injury but then he blinked as if realizing something and his eyes took on a strange look.

She suddenly became acutely aware of how her body was pressed against his, but made no effort to move, and he made no effort to release her. He moved his hand from her chin and hesitated for a moment before touching the side of her neck and then running his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head. Her eyes never left his and she feared she would burn from the fire inside them. His face was just inches from her now, their lips barely touching, his eyes were locked on hers, refusing to let go.

That was when she saw it, beneath the thousands of stars and fire of the Eldar, she saw the hesitation in his eyes. Before she realized what she was doing, her arm moved up around his neck and she arched her back, pressing harder against him and closed the distance. Their lips touched and she felt herself melt into him. And the kiss, which started out so soft and hesitant at first, became stronger and filled with need.

When they finally and reluctantly broke apart they both gasped for breath, foreheads pressed together, lips just barely touching. She kept her eyes closed, frightened of what she may do if she were to look at his again but her arms remained wrapped around his neck and he pressed her to him even tighter. As she held onto him panting, she attempted to gather her wits about her. She heard what she thought was a horse nearby and for a brief moment became startled, thinking that they had been discovered.

"It is only Ectheldoth," whispered Maedhros, his forehead still pressed to hers as his lips brushed lightly against her own. She shuddered when his mouth touched hers as he spoke and she struggled for a coherent thought. 

_Ectheldoth, Maedhros's horse, he was riding; there was a quake, who was riding? Elros was riding, riding with Evon, wait, there was a quake and Evon was riding!_

She gasped loudly and pushed herself back, eyes wide. It was now Maedhros's turn to be startled.

"Evon!" she cried, the realization hitting her that her son was somewhere out there. She jumped up and frantically looked around desperately trying to figure out which way the keep was after becoming disoriented. Suddenly she felt herself being lifted up and placed on the back of horse as Maedhros leapt up gracefully behind her. She grabbed him tight around the waist as he spurred Ectheldoth towards the keep.

 

* * *

 

Elrond stood in front of the keep, assisting with the removal of the remaining debris. Maglor was returning from riding through the encampment, assessing any damage that had been done. This was the largest tremor so far and Elrond had told several of the servants to be prepared for aftershocks. He hoped they would be minor. Maedhros rode up to the keep at the same time Maglor did, Saeran riding with him. Elrond watched as she leapt off the horse before Maedhros could even come to a complete stop and ran to Maglor frantic. Maglor shook his head and pointed over at Elrond, she immediately ran over to him. Her eyes panicked as he caught her by the shoulders to keep her from knocking him down.

"Evon?" she said desperately. Before he could speak someone called out from behind them.

"Mama!" Evon came running around the corner from the direction of the stables with Elros and Thannor following behind him. Saeran spun around and ran to her son dropping to her knees to grab and hold him to her. He squirmed in her grip to try and talk to her.

"Mama," his voiced muffled as he spoke into her shoulder, "mama! The ground moved! I felt it move! And there were monsters!"

"Shhh, yes, yes, I know, it's all right." Saeran stood up and rocked Evon back and forth although Elrond felt the reassurance was more for her than for the child.

Elrond looked at Elros whose face was grim as he stared after Maedhros and Maglor. Thannor had walked swiftly over to them and they spoke in Quenya. The language flew between them low and quick and when they finished the three spurred into action. Thannor went quickly to the soldiers quarters while Maedhros barked orders to several of the servants sending them scurrying. Maglor walked rapidly over to where Elrond stood.

"Elrond, you and your brother must look after the keep in my absence. I have already spoke to Goweston and he knows to come to you. See also that Hestil has everything see needs."

Elrond looked behind Maglor and saw his horse Aldoron was being outfitted with short spears and that Maedhros and Maglor's armor was being brought out. Maedhros never dismounted, he simply strapped his sword onto his saddle next to his armor to be put on at a later time. Men and elves were mounting up, weapons being made at the ready and supplies loaded. Elrond looked back to Maglor.

"I want to come with you."

Maglor stared at Elrond, his gaze intense and considering. "No," he said finally. Elrond flinched slightly but said nothing.

"Not yet," Maglor added, his hand resting on Elrond's shoulder. "Not yet."

Maglor turned and took his sword from the servant that stood a pace behind him and mounted his Aldoron. Maedhros turned Ectheldoth to meet him as Thannor rode up as well. The three held their counsel over Thannor's map as the rest of the party of riders began to move out.

Maglor looked up and called Elros over and Elrond felt a small pang of jealousy. Elros looked at the map that Thannor held out and pointed to an area. The three seemed to agree on the best course and Maglor and Thannor spurred their horses towards the front of the line.

Maedhros stared at the keep for the briefest of moments before he turned and sped away.

Elrond did not need to see what he had been looking at, he already knew.

Saeran stood at the mouth of the main entrance holding Evon and watching Maedhros's retreating back yet again.

 

* * *

 

Saeran shot up straight in bed, gasping for air as a small cry escaped from her lips.

Her heart was pounding and it took her several moments to get her bearings in the dark room. Her hands frantically clawed at the blankets that covered her, desperate to get them off. When she had finally freed herself, she lurched from the bed to the nearby table, both hands leaning against it for support. 

_Calm yourself,_ she thought as she leaned over the table, _it was just a dream, just another nightmare._  

Her shift clung to her body and her hair stuck to her face and neck for she was covered in sweat. She ran her fingers through her hair pulling it out of her face and away from her neck and over one shoulder. She walked from her main room and thru the small outer room to the small adjacent courtyard.

The night was cool and felt good against her burning skin. She walked across the courtyard to the small bench that sat at the foot of a marble statue. She knelt down before the bench so she could lay her head on top of it, her arms crossed underneath.

This is where she liked to come when sleep not only evaded her but tortured her as well. The smooth stone of the bench felt cool on her forehead and arms and she sat there for quite some time. Eventually she turned so her back was against the bench and she could lay her head back and look at the sky.

A week had passed since the last quake that shook the earth. A week had passed since Elros saw the party of orcs on the borders of the encampment. A week of nightmares since learning that orcs had come so close to the keep. A week since she had her embrace with Maedhros that had left her lost and confused.

She still was not sure that it had even happened. She spent her time looking out windows, waiting for his return. She had been spending most of her time in the house of healing, picking up as many chores as she could for Hestil in an attempt for information. She would try to ask questions as innocuously as possible.

"No, the lord Maedhros has never taken a wife," said Hestil. "Not that the Nissi were not vying for his attention. But never did he take a wife."

"So he has never been in love -" Saeran had said.

"Oh, I did not say that now," interrupted Hestil. "It may be argued that he had been in love, or felt something similar for someone. Just never married."

"Who would they argue he might have been in love with?" But Hestil just shook her head.

"That was a long time ago child," she said, staring sadly at some memory unspoken, "a long time ago."

Saeran finished up her work after that for she could tell that Hestil had nothing more to say. She yawned as she looked up at the stars from her seat in the courtyard.

What would a great elven prince want with her anyway. She was past her youth and has mothered two children. What could possibly be so desirable about her?

Perhaps it was convenience, although the little she had heard about the elves told her that they did not act frivolously in matters of love. But that was with their kind. What of hers? Their lives were just a blink in time to them. Perhaps it was easier to entertain yourself fleetingly with a lowly mortal woman than pledge eternity away with one of your own. When they embraced she had looked into his eyes and thought she saw, what? She is acting like a child trying to live in a fairy tale. For two years she had lived in this keep. For two years he had barely spoken a handful of words to her, always staring at her with those strange unreadable eyes that shown with that odd light. And now this?

She stood up from where she sat in the courtyard and slowly began to walk back to her room. Perhaps when the next group of evacuees comes through for Ered Luin she and her son would join them. She did not think they would deny her supplies and with any luck he will not have returned before they could leave _._

She walked into her dimly lit room and crossed over to the strange lamp to shut it off and return to bed when she froze, remembering that she had never lit it in the first place. She turned around and slapped her hands to her mouth before the startled scream could escape her lips.

Standing against the wall near her door stood Maedhros. He was still dressed in his riding clothes and light armor that looked to be spattered with mud and dirt and other dark things she did not wish to know the source of. She stood there, hands over her mouth and eyes open wide as he stood looking at the ground, neither of them speaking for several moments.

"I . . . we have only just returned," he said not looking up. "I wanted to see you . . . first."

She realized her hands were still over her mouth and dropped them quickly to her sides and said nothing.

"I have struggled with this in vain and I cannot stand it any longer. I have thought of nothing but you since I first saw you standing in the light of Vása. The past turnings of the seasons have been agony for me and I beg you now to end this torture. I held you, and for a brief glorious moment I felt you reciprocate, and it has given me hope for something that I had never allowed or believed myself worthy of before . . . I . . . I would . . .if you . . ."

The words had come out in a rush, spilling forth so fast that he stumbled over them now and looked up at her. The eyes that looked at her were not the same eyes that had threatened to burn her from within before. The stars inside them were dimmed with torment and she thought that the sorrow might swallow her whole.She no longer cared what his intentions were.

She walked across the room and stood before him studying his appearance. Slowly she reached up and began to remove his gauntlet from his forearm. After she had cast that aside she stood on her tiptoes to reach his shoulder and unclip the riding cloak, letting one side drop behind him. She then moved to the other side, unclipping the cloak and allowing it to fall again although he continued to hold it with his right arm. When she reached for his arm to remove the cloak completely he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes and gently took his hand from her wrist. She then pulled the cloak from his arm, revealing his disfigurement. She continued on till all armament was removed from his person and left in a gory pile upon the floor.

Throughout all of this he was perfectly still, never moving and now stood before her in nothing more than his tunic and breeches. His tunic was open at the neck exposing a chest that was a canvas of faded scars. Layer upon layer of scar tissue. She reached under his tunic pulling it up over his head and she thought she may weep at the extent of the damage. Her hands trembled as she reached up to trace a finger along the crevasses embedded in his skin. She felt him shudder slightly at her touch and moved closer so she could continue to follow the scar that traveled up his neck, allowing her hand to come to a rest on the side of his face.

As he reached around her and placed his hand along the small of her back, she noticed that he had pulled his right arm behind him. She grabbed his arm and placed it around her back as she moved in closer, pulling him to her, her face against his chest listening to his heartbeat. Both of his arms wrapped around her now and held her tightly to him. She turned her head up to look at him and he leaned down, his lips finding hers.

There was no hesitation on his part this time. When his lips came down upon hers he kissed her deeply, causing her to press hard against him, her hands gripping his back. He reached down and lifted her up and when her leg wrapped around him he had to stop and balance himself because of the rush of excitement that flooded his senses. He laid her down on the bed, his mouth never leaving hers as their bodies became entwined. His hand reached down under her shift pulling it ever upwards, he longed to feel her skin and the warmth of her body against his own. His entire being ached and he was shocked to discover that she had hooked her foot against his breeches and had pulled them down. He could feel the warmth that came from her and stopped, concern in his eyes.

"Saeran, if we do this," he gasped, "we will be forever connected, forever joined, our fëa becoming one. My pain will become yours, my fear a part of you. I do not –"

"Stop," she said and placed her mouth on his. "I will bear your pain," she said and positioned her hips beneath him, "I will ease your fear." She drew him slowly into her, and at the height of their passion he felt the exact moment when their hearts began to beat in the same pounding rhythm, and when he looked in her eyes he let the fire he saw there consume him.

 

* * *

 

Maedhros lay there the rest of the night holding her to him, staring at the sky as the morning light began to peek from behind the hills.

He could feel her still. Her fëa forever attached to him, a part of him. He could feel she was at peace, content in her sleep. It was soothing to him and washed away the fear he felt about what he had done, about what he had pulled her into.

As the light outside began to grow, he knew he should leave but he could not tear himself from her side. He looked at her, her face relaxed, her dark hair spilled out around her.

He would have spent the rest of the day and all of eternity there with her simply staring, if not for the light tapping he felt on his shoulder.

He turned over and saw Evon standing there. His hair mussed up on his head and sleep still in his eyes. Per his normal morning routine upon waking, he had left his room and padded down to his mother's room for his morning cuddle. He now stood staring at Maedhros, a petulant look on his face.

"You're in my spot." he said.


	5. Chapter 5

When Saeran woke the following morning, she found Maedhros gone and her son curled up against her in his place. When she looked around the room she saw no trace of him ever even being here and would have written it off as a dream if not for the . . . awareness inside of her.

Saeran was not sure that "awareness" was the proper word, but there was certainly something different. It was a subtle difference, but it was there, somewhere in her core, she could feel him. It was not unpleasant, but certainly strange and added to her confusion. He had said something to her last night, about some connection they would share. He had whispered into her ear that he was bound to her now and she to him. In truth he could have told her that the world was falling around them and she would not have cared.

Saeran jumped up out of bed, suddenly feeling ridiculously giddy and proceeded to dress. After waking and dressing her son, she floated her way down to the kitchens to fetch them breakfast. She glided into the kitchens, humming to herself as she placed some fruit and bread in a piece of cloth. She waved over her shoulder as she left.

"Always a pleasure gentlemen," she called out behind her. The three Noldo who manned the kitchen and had been silently watching her performance looked at each other. One smiled and shrugged and then went back to work.

Saeron and Evon were just finishing their meal when the twins came into the main hall. She smiled brightly up at them.

"Good morning," she cried out cheerfully. "I brought some for you too."

They sat down staring at her as she hopped up.

"I must be on my way to help Hestil," she said as she turned and gave Evon a kiss and a tickle, making him laugh. "I leave him in your excellent care."

She never even noticed how the twins never said anything. Elros turned and looked at his brother after she left.

"It has happened, just like you said."

"Yes," answered Elrond still staring at the door. "She is bound to him now."

Elros sighed. "Then let them have this brief moment of happiness."

"What he did was selfish and will burn him in the end. It changes nothing."

"You cannot stand in judgment of them forever Elrond. I have forgiven, you must as well."

"I have forgiven Elros and he will know happiness and it will be too much to bear when it is lost. I cannot help him even though I desire too. Their fate has not changed. I have foreseen it." Elrond gave a resigned sigh. "I can dwell on the brother's no more. The day is coming when we will leave this place and find our own fate. That is my focus now."

"Oh?" Elros pulled some crust off of his bread. "And what have you seen of that?"

Elrond said nothing, only ate his food.

"All right then, keep your secrets. I hope that whatever it is, I get to make you angry." He tossed some of the bread crumbs at him and jumped up, walking over to Evon.

Elrond gave his brother an exasperated look and picked the food out of his hair, watching Elros grab Evon and swing him around.

He loved his brother. He would give his life for him and deny him nothing. But he would not tell him of the visions he had seen when he looked into their own future, things that confused and frightened him.

He saw loss, and war, the fall of two great cities and a choice.

A choice would be forced upon them, and the ending result would eventually separate Elros from him forever, never to meet again not even in the halls of Mandos.

 

* * *

 

The week dragged by for Saeran. Any thrill she had felt in the beginning had slowly given away to a slight bitterness. Nine days. Nine days had gone by and nothing. No inkling of when he would return. The feeling inside of her that had at first seemed so exciting now seemed like a nagging reminder of his absence. Saeran had given up on trying to find him and had settled back into her own routine. She never stopped spending her evenings in the main hall though. After everyone had retired, she would come to sit and enjoy the quiet and the fire. Sometimes Maglor would even join her and she was pleased to see that this would be one of those evenings when Maglor walked up beside her. He gestured at the chair across from her.

"May I?"

Saeran smiled and sat up. "Please."

She watched him as he sat, reclining back in to the chair, one stretched out leg crossed over the other, fingers laced together has he rested his hands just below is chest. It never ceases to amaze her how he and Maedhros were able to make the most banal of behavior into the most graceful dance. How different he was from his brother and yet so much alike.

"You are staring"

"Oh, forgive me," she said her face going warm. "I forget myself; I could not help thinking how different you and your brother are."

Maglor looked at her amused. "He does lack my finer features."

"Yes," she said with a small laugh. "Not to mention your manners," she said under her breath.

It was Maglor's turn laugh. "Yes! He is certainly lacking in that at times."

Saeran blushed again. She had not meant for him to hear, curse those elven ears. Still, she enjoyed listening to him laugh, even that sounding like music.

"You must forgive him though; he has carried much for his family. His scars are not just physical."

"How do you mean?" She immediately regretted the question. "No. Do not say. I should not have asked."

Maglor stared at Saeran, face unreadable. "May I ask a question of you?" he finally said. "Do not feel you must answer but, this has been in my mind for some time."

"After all you have done for me and my son; you may ask of me anything."

"We shall see," he said, causing Saeran some uneasiness.  _Could he know?_

"I want to ask how you came to be in these woods two years ago. I want to ask of Evon's father." Saeran blinked at that. Not what she was expecting but not so surprising either.

Saeran looked to the fire for some time before answering.

"If you do not wish . . ." started Maglor, but was silenced by a wave of Saeran's hand.

"No, no, you have a right to know. I just want to make sure I am wording this right, so you understand why events fell the way they did." Maglor nodded and waited.

"My family was never very welcome among our people." Maglor noticed how she said "our people" with disdain. "They were never my people. I may have been forced to marry one, but I would never become one. The women in that tribe are goods, traded like so much chattel. My marriage was arranged at my birth in some vain attempt by my father to gain status, although I do not know how he thought it could be attained for one so low." She plucked at the hem of her dress, a nervous habit she had that Maglor noticed. "Fferyll was to be chief and was as vile as the people he led. He held no affection for me and I had none for him. But I did manage to give him two sons therefore my presence was tolerated for a while." She looked at Maglor and he could see the subtle desperation in her eyes.

"Fferyll was a horrible man, a terrible man, who served a very dark lord," she said, her voice sounding almost as if she were pleading with him. "And when I saw him, teaching my sons his acts of cruelty, turning them into him, I knew, I  _knew_ I had to get them, my children out of there. That is why we did what we did, my mother and I, what we had to do. I would not have been able to get them out otherwise." She sat back, looking very tired.

"What did you have to do Saeran," asked Maglor, gently prodding when she did not speak, already knowing what she would say. She simply turned to Maglor, her face void of all emotion.

"We killed him," she said. "And I fled, my mother telling me to fly to the south . . . and away from Lothlann."

Maglor studied her intently now.  _Easterlings,_ he thought icily. Saeran continued, never noticing the chill that had come over Maglor's person.

"She said to go south and seek the help of the elves. Her father and grandfather had served some great elven lord and died in his service. She thought that perhaps there would still be some of his people left."

Maglor blinked at this. Some memory tugged in the back of his mind. "Your mother, where is she now?"

"She would not come with us no matter how much I begged. She had weathered some seventy plus seasons and said she would only hinder me, although I told her otherwise. She stayed behind to give us the time we needed to leave." Her voice dropped down to a whisper as she spoke. "I feel it is safe to assume that I will not be seeing her again."

Maglor studied Saeran and knew there was something she was still hiding but decided not to press her.  _Another time_ _,_ he thought.

They sat at the fire continuing to talk into the night. Saeran asked about his childhood and Maglor smiled as he told her stories of the forges of Mahtan and the courts of Finwë, of great hunts with his brothers and his cousins and of halls that were too beautiful to imagine. He spoke wistfully and with longing and Saeran became saddened when she thought of all they had lost. Maglor stopped himself when he saw her becoming upset.

"Come," he said, "it is late and I have been selfish. You must rest."

Saeran laughed. "I could listen to you all night."

"Then I will test your resolve, but at a later date." Saeran tried to protest but Maglor would have none of it. She stood up and bid him good night, but as she turned to leave Maglor called out to her once more.

"Saeran, when your mother spoke of her father, that he had sworn fealty. I am curious; do you know which lord he served?"

Saeran looked back at him and shook her head. "The only name she ever used for the lord was in the old tongue . . . Týr I think she called him, and I do not know the manner of her father's death, only that he died fighting traitors that were among his people. But his name was Borlad, son of Bór." She smiled and said good night.

Maglor bid her goodnight and sat back in his chair, mulling over the second revelation to have taken him by surprise tonight. 

_Easterlings,_  he thought bitterly.  _Typical that I would unknowingly aid Easterlings._  

Well it was too late now. He could not send them from his house even if he wanted to. The peredhil would never forgive him. He had grown fond of them as well and would not hold the sins of her people against her. He had far more blood on his hands than her. Indeed, he knew he was the last person qualified to stand in judgment of anyone when it came down to it. 

_Borlad,_ he thought _, son of Bór._

Maglor suddenly sat up straight, recognition finally coming to him. The image of a strong broad man and his sons came to his mind. Three sons. They had sworn allegiance to Maitimo and died keeping their word, defending him against the treachery of Ulfang and his ilk. 

_She is the descendant of Bór,_ he thought as he shook his head and laughed at the strange twists that fate kept delivering him.

 

* * *

 

_Maedhros stood at the edge of the long wall, watching for any signs from the battle that stormed at the Sirion._

_Brithombar and Eglarest had been retaken and the Enemy routed from that land, but it would be at the Ford of Brithiach where the true test would be. It was the only place where the host from Aman would be able to cross and the Enemy would defend it fiercely._

_Once the battle crossed there it would easily cut through East Beleriand all the way to the Blue Mountains where the dwarves waged their own wars against Morgoth's minions._

_The land was being torn apart. He wondered if anything would be left by the end._

_He turned and looked back towards Amon Ereb._

_She pulled at him and he wanted nothing more than to return. And yet, he stayed away. There was no reason for him and his men to be out here. Thannor had lightly pressed to return but still he stayed. He would have cursed himself for his weakness if he had not already damned himself centuries ago._

_He did not deserve any reprieve. He had created this burden and it was his to carry, no one else. What kind of existence had he brought her into? What kind of punishment would come to her from his frenzied need?_

_His guilt had kept him away this long but the pull on his fëa was strong and selfishly he wanted her. She was his and he reveled in the knowledge that she was a part of him._

_He did not call to the One to witness for he would take no oath ever again. The Valar did not hear his prayers and had turned their backs to his pain._

_But he would bind himself to her._

_She filled the void the abandonment of the Valar had created and the loss of Findekáno intensified. He could feel that bond and find the comfort he so desperately needed. The memories of that night stirred him. He knew what it was to feel again and he would have this while he could. No, he will not deny himself this. He had been denied enough._

_He called out to Thannor. They would leave at first light._

 

* * *

 

Saeran held up a plant for Hestil to look at.

"Well?" she asked.

"Another weed," answered Hestil, shaking her head. "Check your roots."

Saeran threw the plant down in frustration, dropping herself down on the ground. She would have this whole field weeded before they were through. Her basket for collecting herbs had one, very scrawny, sad little plant. Hestil's basket on the other hand was overflowing. She wiped at her forehead smudging dirt along her face.

When Hestil had asked Saeran to help her to collect herbs with her, she had thought it would be a way to remove herself from her surroundings. She had noticed after her conversation with Maglor that he did not look at her the same. Whether it was because of her revelations about her past or because he had some insight into what had transpired between her and his brother (and she prayed endlessly it was not that), he looked at her differently. She found herself avoiding his eyes as much as possible in fear that he may have some ability to see into her, to sense the bond somehow. She grabbed at another plant ripping it from the ground and started to hold it up but Hestil was shaking her head no before Saeran could fully extend her arm. She threw the plant in the ever growing pile of rejects behind her.

"I don't know why you ask me to help you with this," she called to Hestil. "I have accomplished nothing."

"Nonsense, you are good company and that is an accomplishment." Hestil smiled and took some of her herbs and placed them into Saeran's basket. "Better?"

"Now you are just being mean." Saeran picked up a clump of dirt and threw it at her playfully. Hestil sat down next to Saeran and handed her some of the dried venison she had packed.

"Hestil, may I ask you something?"

"Ask."

"What does it mean when . . . to . . . bind yourself amongst your people?"

"The binding? You mean marriage?"

"Marriage?!" exclaimed Saeran.

"Well that is what your people would call it, though I believe it is far more sacred for the Noldor." Hestil realized how that sounded and quickly apologized. "Forgive me. I do not mean to belittle you in anyway, it is just that marriage amongst the second born is sometimes . . . well similar to trade."

"No," Saeran sighed, "you are right about that."

"It is the act of bodily union that achieves marriage. And once joined, they are forever linked, forever bound, till the end of their days taking no other." Hestil smiled sounding whimsical as she spoke.

"Forever bound, taking no other?"

"It is not something that is approved of, although it has been done, for a neri or nissi to bind themselves to someone again. One mate, one life."

"So," said Saeran slowly, "for someone to pledge themselves to you in this way, is no small matter."

"One mate, one life," Hestil said again. "Once the union is made, it can never be sundered, not even in death, not even by the will of the One. It is not something that is entered into lightly. You are making a promise through eternity and beyond."

Saeran sat there, eyes wide. "For the Noldor?" she asked.

"For all Elves, for we are all His children."

"What about for those not of your kind," asked Saeran. "Would it be the same for an elf and mortal?"

"Are you asking about the peredhil's line? Indeed the pairing has happened in the past between their kin. The mother's line being of the Eldar and the father's of man." Hestil became thoughtful for a moment. "While I do not know how their bond affected them, I do know that neither couple could suffer separation and are said to dwell in Valinor together. So, perhaps that is answer enough."

"Has any elf lord ever loved a mortal woman?"

"Yes," said Hestil sadly, "I have heard of one, although he never took her to wife, he took no other." Hestil sat next to Saeran, looking at her much more closely. "You," she said, smiling mischievously, "look different." Saeran gave her a very wide-eyed and innocent look.

"I am sure I do not know what you mean," she said and bit down on the meat she had been handed.

"Oh, I think you do." Hestil continued to smile at her. "I have been watching you all week and there is something different." She leaned in to Saeran and whispered almost gleefully. "I can hear it in your voice."

"Oh stop," Saeran threatened her with another one of the clumps of dirt she dug up. "I have a cold. Leave me alone."

"Oh, you have something," she said laughing loudly, "but it is most certainly  _not_  a cold." She laughed again as Saeran turned red. "Well, who is he? Some captain of the guard?"

Saeran rolled her eyes and leaned back on her elbows. Hestil laughed.

"Or perhaps one of the _mighty sons of Feanor!"_  Saeran jumped and gave out a little gasp. Hestil laughed again, taking her reaction for something else.

"Don't be silly child. They are too old to marry and the lord Maglor is already married besides." This time Saran sat up and stared at Hestil in true shock.

"Maglor is  _married? . . ._ wait, what do you mean too old?"

"I mean he is married and that these things are usually done in our youth," said Hestil, wiping tears of mirth from her face. "Creating the bond so late in life leads to ill chances and strange fates."

The sudden sound of horns pulled them from their conversation. They turned towards the keep and saw a party of riders heading in.

"The lord of Amon Ereb has returned," said Hestil as they watched, "I suppose we should as well. Come on then, play time is over."

Saeran continued to watch the riders enter the keep, her heart pounding in her chest. She watched as one rider separated from the column, allowing the others to file in before him. She watched as he trotted his horse back out to the front of the main gate and turned to face the hill where she and Hestil stood. The great war horse stomped in place, impatient to return to the comfort of the stables. Finally, the rider turned and spurred the animal through the gates and towards the keep, his red hair blazing in the sun as it flew behind him.  _He has returned,_ she thought fighting the rising tide of excitement building inside of her.

_He has finally returned, and I am covered in dirt._

 

* * *

 

 

Saeran fought with the feelings that roiled around inside of her.

The anticipation mixed with fear. He had left immediately after that fateful night without any word on when he would return, much less a good bye. Questions and doubt lingered in her mind and clouded her thoughts. Was there regret? How would he act when she sees him? What if there are others around? Does she pretend she feels nothing? She had sat here for nine days in confusion, not understanding the change that had come over her and no way to ask someone to explain it except through her innocently veiled questions. And the answers she had received had left her stunned. She regretted nothing, knowing in her heart she would have given herself to him regardless of the consequences. But he left her with no explanation, nothing, just a head that was swimming with an onslaught of emotions. One moment she was elated at the thought of seeing him and then another moment she felt as if she may sick up on the floor. It was not fair for her to be left alone to come to terms with this on her own, no one for her to turn to. No, she was not ready to see him yet. She was not some pet to be leashed for another's beck and call. This will be done on her terms, when she was ready. She just wished she did not already feel . . . so ready. The turmoil inside of her must have been obvious because even Hestil noticed.

"You look . . .  _green_ ," she said to Saeran, concern in her expression. She took Saeran's face in her hands and studied her. Saeran pulled herself from Hestil's grasp nervously.

"I am . . . I will be fine, I just . . . something I ate perhaps," she struggled to lose Hestil's gaze. "A bath would help."

Hestil continued to study Saeran, looking her up and down. "Hmmm," she narrowed her eyes at her and agreed, "you are filthy."

Saeran gave Hestil a disparaging look.

"Save those looks for your son, they do not work on me," she folded her arms across her chest and stared at Saeran, one eyebrow raised. "Use the baths in the back; I will have Janneth warm some water for you."

Saeran remember the bath Hestil had in the back of the healing house that was used for patients and was suddenly grateful. She would be able to avoid the bath house and wash in private.

"I will warm the water, just ask Janneth to fetch some clothes from the keep if she would." Hestil laughed at that.

"That will never happen, for that child is terrified of the lords who dwell there. You had best see to that yourself, your bath will be ready when you return." Hestil turned around and began to busy herself with the kettles and calling for Janneth. She never saw the look of defeat come across Saeran's face.

She would have to return to the keep now whether she wished to it or not.

 

* * *

 

_The riders followed the pace their lord set to the keep and as they approached the gate they continued in as he broke off and remained outside. His horse Ectheldoth balked slightly at this, agitated at having to wait as all of his companions continued on inside. The animal was just as ready to return as the rest of the company was._

_Maedhros nudged him around and back to the front of the gate, turning him in the direction he wanted to see. He knew she was near, he could feel her pulling inside of him. He sought her out, allowing the bond to guide him till his sight fell on two figures on the side of the hill outside the keep._

_His vision was sharp and could see her clearly. She was sitting, her hands and face smudged with dirt, her hair pulled back in plaits on the side that were drawn into one thick braid down her back. It suited her, this earthy look she wore, and had the healer not been there with her he would have ridden up the hill and taken her there. She stared back down at him and although she could not have known it, she looked him in the eyes and it made him smile._

_He turned and spurred Ectheldoth into the keep. He had waited this long, he could wait a short time more._

 

* * *

 

Saeran did not want to enter through the main doors. She decided to try entering from the back through the kitchens. No matter what she did she would have to go past the main hall but it was big enough that she thought she could slip by without being noticed.

When she crept through the outer door and stepped into the kitchen, the three elven men who were always there did not disappoint her with their reaction. They simply stopped what they were doing and stared as she crossed the room. She had become a little brazen with them lately, seeing as they never reacted to anything. As she walked past the nearest one, she raised her finger to her lips.

"Shhhhh," she whispered. "Not so loud."

She slipped out the door and into the corridor that led past the main hall. She came to the corner and peaked around. Some men moved about the hall but not the lords of the keep so she continued on. She ran to her room, terrified she would run into someone.

When she reached the door she stopped abruptly, remembering the last two times he had silently entered the room without her knowledge.

She slowly opened the door and looked in. No one was there. Immediately, she ran in and grabbed the first pile of clothing she saw and then ran out. She walked swiftly down the corridor to the main hall and froze. Voices floated from the hall now and she knew instantly who was there.

Something pulled at the core of her being, threatening to drag her into the room against her will. She slowly looked around the corner.

Several Noldo from the riding party were there, pulling out long tables to be seated. Elrond and Elros were seating themselves in the center of the room with Evon. Elrond had a small harp that he was plucking at while Elros went to sit on the ground with her son, both looking at some small figurines and, at the far end of the room near the entrance stood the brothers. They were having a conversation with Thannor that seemed very involved.

She decided that this was as good a chance as any. She put her head down and walked swiftly across the back of the hall to the next corridor. She fought the urge to run so as not to pull any unwanted attention to herself.

As she was walking she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that no one had noticed and was just about to congratulate herself when she slammed into a wall. At least she had thought it was a wall until she realized that walls did not hold trays of glasses filled with drink.

A tray of glasses filled with drink that now crashed to the ground with an earth shattering sound. 

_Oh gods_ , she thought and looked in front of her to see one of the elven men who worked the kitchen with a startled expression on his face. She might have actually enjoyed that but for the fact that she realized that the main hall had gone completely quiet. 

_Oh gods_ , she thought again and turned her head slowly towards the room.

Every head had turned to the back of the room to see the cause of the ruckus. Several amused looks were cast her way and she looked at the elf she had run into to see him smiling slightly at her. He held his finger to his lips.

"Shhh," he whispered, "Not so loud."

Saeran prayed for a tremor, orcs, anything. "I am so sorry," she gasped, bending down to pick up the mess. "I did not mean to . . . oh, I am so sorry," she could feel his eyes on her. She could not think, she had to move, the bond in her was intense and she fought the urge to run to him with every fiber of her being.

This was not going according to plan, not at all.

"Please, let me just . . ." she felt a hand take hers and she looked up to see the elf from the kitchen giving her a concerned look as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Lav nye," he said gently and took the shards of glass from her hand. From behind her she heard Elros call out.

"Saeran," he called walking over to her. "Where have you been? We have been looking for you!"

She turned to face him and saw that most everyone had gone back to whatever they had been doing before the back of room entertainment, except for one. One set of eyes at the front of the hall still watched. She felt a heat rush through her body and knew that she had to get out. She squeezed her eyes shut and darted into the corridor, Elros following behind her.

"Saeran, where are you going? Saeran? Wait, where are you going?" Elros continued to call out until Saeran turned around, her desperation  reaching its boiling point.

"I just want to take a bath!" she cried and ran down hallway.

Elros stood there blinking in confusion for a moment before he returned to the main hall. He walked over to Elrond and shrugged.

"She wants to take a bath."

 

* * *

 

Saeran ran through the keep and out of the kitchen cursing her clumsiness the entire way. She did not understand what was happening to her. It was as if she had lost all self-restraint. She is a grown woman. She is in control of her being. She is not some child incapable of maintaining her composure. She wiped away the tears of frustration as she burst into the healing house, slamming the door behind her. Hestil and Janneth both spun around in surprise. Hestil gawked at her. She was out of breath and her overskirt was stained with wine.

"What happened?" she cried. "How did you manage to come back even filthier than when you left?" Saeran glowered at Hestil.

"Is the bath ready," she asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes, but the water is still cold."

"Good." Saeran pushed herself away from the door and stomped back towards the room.

After taking a cold bath Saeran felt more herself. She was back in control. She dried off and retrieved the dress she had randomly pulled out of the wardrobe. As soon as she looked at it though, she began to feel sick all over again.

It was not the usual modest shift with apron type overskirt that she usually wore. This was a much finer garment. It was a grey so light that it could almost pass for silver. Fine embroidery adorned the neck and hem and when she put it on she felt even worse. The neck scooped out wide on her shoulders, dropping slightly in the back and hugged her form to below the waist before the skirt filled out.

_This was not random_ , she thought bitterly.

Saeran let out a string of curses that brought Hestil and Janneth in the room. When the healer saw her she gasped and clasped her hands together at her mouth while Janneth practically squealed.

"You are  _beautiful_!" she cried. "I will do your hair. Sit."

Saeran would have protested if she thought it would do any good but she had resigned herself to the truth of her situation. It was absolutely and unconditionally out of her control. They loosely pulled her hair back, Hestil weaving fine silver strands along the sides, letting the rest dangle in her hair that hung free down her back. The two women stood back admiring their handy work when a sudden realization came to Hestil and she ran out of the room, rushing back in with something in her hand. She pulled Saeran to her feet and fixed a thin delicate silver belt low around her waist. Hestil nodded her approval while Janneth "oohed and aahed" to the point that Saeran thought she may strike her several times about the face. They sent her out as if sending out their daughter to her first festival.

Saeran felt as if she were going to her doom.

She went back through the kitchens, hoping to slip in for dinner from the back unnoticed. As she walked through the kitchen, the usual three were there but to her surprise she was not met with stony expressions. Instead the three of them looked at her and stood up straight. The one she had run into smiled and lowered his head to her followed by the other three. Saeran gave him a flat look. She was just not in the mood.

Once she reached the end of the hallway she paused and took a deep breath.

The bond pulled at her again, but this time she would control it. This time she would not lose herself to the longing. She was still her own person. But just to be safe, she walked around the corner very slowly, in case someone was standing there holding something that could break loudly.

As she entered the hall she looked around. It was the busiest she had ever seen it. Tables had been set out for the men and elves of what remained of the brother's company. Almost instinctively though, her eyes were pulled to the center of the hall where the lords of the keep sat.

As usual his eyes had found her before she ever saw him but this time she thought she saw a flash of . . .  _something_  cross his face. Or so she thought, because she blinked and it was gone and back was the indecipherable expression he always carried. Except for those eyes. His eyes never left her, leveling her very being as he stood up when she entered.

Maglor, upon seeing his brother's reaction, turned to see what the cause was and when he saw Saeran he smiled and stood as well. Both lords of Amon Ereb standing had pulled the attention of many of their men in the room, and when they turned and saw Saeran, they stood out of respect for the lady who was entering. Saeran, who had been caught up in seeing Maedhros suddenly realized that everyone was standing and staring at her. She almost turned around when Elros materialized next to her.

"Would the lady allow me the honor of escorting her to her seat?" he grinned widely at her and she was grateful for him.

As she took his arm he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "This is a much better entrance than earlier."

 

* * *

 

 

Maedhros stood at the front of the room next to Maglor and Thannor, not really paying attention to the conversation. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. The loud crash from the back of the hall had brought the conversation around to Saeran and her son. When he saw her run out, he would have gone after her if it had not been for his brother and Captain there next to him. It was then that Maglor had spoken of her.

"She is an Easterling," he said looking at Maedhros. Both Maedhros and Thannor snapped their head's around to look at him

"Easterling?" said Thannor, his brow furrowing. "You know this how?" Maedhros said nothing, he only returned his gaze to the back of the hall.

"She told me," said Maglor smoothly. "And not just any Easterling. She is a descendent of Bór." Thannor's brow now shot up in surprise. Maedhros turned slowly back to his brother, expression carefully controlled for Macalaurë could see much in a person.

"Of Bór?' said Thannor. "Father to Borthand and . . . " Thannor struggled for the names.

"Borlach and Borlad," said Maedhros staring at his brother.

"The same," replied Maglor , who returned Maedhros's stare just as steadily. "Her grandsire was Borlad."

Thannor shook his head. "What strange fate is this that the descendants of Bór have returned amongst us? Perhaps to repay a debt?"

"It is I who owe the debt then, for Bór and his sons died defending me. We will speak no more of this. This woman and her child are not of the filth of that tribe."

Maedhros walked away and took a seat in the center of the room. He remembered when the tribes of Bór and Ulfang first came to Beleriand from Eriador seeking lands to settle and he had given generously. They were wide and swarthy men, who were long and strong of arm with dark hair and eyes and grew great beards down their chests. Caranthir said there could be great valor in the race of Man and so Maedhros made alliance with them and the brothers trained them for war. 

_Bór,_ he thought _. Bór, chieftain of the tribe of easterlings who swore allegiance to myself and Maglor. Bór, who with his sons cheated the hope of Morgoth and remained loyal to their oath and died as a result._

They stood against the machinations of the traitorous Ulflang and slew his sons Ulfast and Ulworth before they themselves were killed, but not before the damage had been done. An old familiar pain came into his chest and for a moment the comfort he had found in his bond was lost, the great empty loneliness returning. He looked down at the child at his feet who sat entertaining himself with the small marble figures Maedhros had given him earlier. 

_Bór's great-great-grandson_ , he thought.  _Strange fate indeed_.

Maglor and Thannor joined him moments later and Maedhros pulled himself from his pain. Elrond and Elros sat next to them listening to everything that was reported. Maedhros knew that in a few more years they would want to leave to join the effort. They were already becoming insistent on joining the next outing and even Maglor felt it may be time for them to accompany occasionally. Maedhros was against it though. They would slow them down and if one of them should get killed in their care the repercussions would be swift.

He sighed and turned his mind away from the conversation and inwards. She was still there, he could still feel her. Her fëa was restless but still there. 

_Bór's great-granddaughter,_ he thought. Was it through a treacherous tribe of men that he may know peace?

The irony was not lost on him.

He was not sure how much time had passed when he felt her return. He knew she lingered in the corridor and watched the back of the hall for her to enter only to find he was not prepared for what he saw. She came into the room and stood in the back.

Gone was the girl he had seen earlier, covered in earth and laying in the sun. The woman before him now rivaled the light of any of the Valar to him and when her eyes found his found himself rising from his chair before he knew what he was doing. She was a vision to him, shining with the light of the stars in her hair and in the depths of her dark eyes. This was not a child of from a deceptive race of Men devoid of honor or dignity, she was a child of Ilúvatar descended from Varda herself and he was bound to her and she to him.

She looked down and away and did not meet his gaze again and he cursed himself for staying away so long for he could see her doubt. He watched as the peredhil walked over to her and felt what he could only discern as jealousy as Elros offered her his arm. He felt the feeling intensify as he whispered some secret to her and she smiled, bringing her some small joy where he could not. He regained control over his emotions and lowered himself back down to his seat, resuming his feigned interest in the conversation around him. He could not look at her for if he did Macalaurë would know.

Macalaurë, who knew all of his deepest secrets and darkest anguish. He could hide nothing from him and nor did he try. They shared their own bond in a way, though it was dark and filled with torment. But he was not ready to share this, not yet. It was much more likely that he already knew anyway and kept it to himself in that quiet way he has.

The men in the hall began to slowly leave, paying their respects to the lords of the keep and their guests on their way out. As the people in the hall thinned Maedhros found himself staring at Saeran several times without knowing. He looked to her as she laughed at something Elros said. He watched her as she patiently listened to Elrond talk to her of the One and the awaking of his children along Lake Cuiviénen. He watched as her son showed her the small marble figures he played with and she studied them, examining the craftsmanship.

She asked her son who gave them to him and blinked in surprise when he brightly answered her. She looked up at him and he felt his heart quicken and his face soften and almost gave into a smile. She stared into him and he felt he might be consumed, and he begged her for release. When she looked away to look at another figure that her son was holding up, his head dropped slightly, as if a line had been cut and found himself letting go a breath he had not realized he was holding.

He turned towards the fire after that, willing himself not to look at her again lest he give himself away. He felt as if the night wore laboriously on. But he noticed fatigue began to take the child and the boy climbed on to his mother's lap where sleep eventually won over. She stood then with her son in her arms and bid them good night, but stopping in front of Maedhros before she left. Holding her son in one hand and the small satchel that held the tiny figures in the other, she spoke.

"My lord," she said and Maedhros fought the urge to look at her. "My lord, Evon said that you gave these to him but he must be mistaken. They are too fine a work for a child. I would return them to you before some damage is done."

Maedhros waved the bag away, still looking at the fire. "They were indeed a gift, take them. They are a child's plaything and he will have more use for them than I."

While Maedhros never looked away from the fire, he was aware that Maglor stared pointedly at the satchel for he knew whose hands had tirelessly carved the tiny figures in there. She dropped her hand to her side and continued to stand before him. Did she not understand what she was doing?

"Thank you my lord," she said softly, "that is very kind." She turned and left and for the second time that night Maedhros let go the breath he did not realize he was holding. He watched as the peredhil followed her, the mother and her cubs.

 

* * *

 

Saeran placed the last of the figurines on the shelf above Evon's bed. The craftsmanship was exquisite. There were seven total, each one their own individual.

One stood with a great hound next to him while another looked as if he were dressed for the forge, a smithy's hammer in his hand. Two of them looked almost identical but for some slight difference in their hunting apparel and another stood alone, arms folded across his chest and seemed to look down at her from where he stood on the shelf. But it was the last two that had caught her attention the most. One sat with a harp on his lap, his face turned up as if in song while the last stood with his hands resting on the hilt of a sword, the blade pointed down in the ground while his head was slightly lowered and his eyes closed, as if in prayer. She would have thought those two figures could be the lords of Amon Ereb but for the figures were carvings of youths. They were all young boys that did not look to be any older than the twins. She found them beautiful and hoped that Evon would treasure them.

When she turned around she saw that the twins had taken up their usual posts in their room. Elrond sitting down to read while Elros flung himself on his bed. She turned back around and gave Evon a kiss on his forehead and crossed to the door. As she left Elrond called out to her.

"You look lovely tonight Saeran," he called from his corner. She looked back at him and smiled.

"You flatter me sir," she laughed. But Elros spoke up behind her.

"You do and everyone noticed," he said staring up at the ceiling.

She paused for moment, but both young men had returned to their own little worlds. She bid them good night and left.

She walked down the corridor thinking on the events of the evening. Maedhros had not looked at her once after she had been seated. He had sat there, speaking to Maglor and Thannor in that strange language. The only time he had acknowledged her was when Evon had told her that Maedhros had given him the marble figures. She did not believe it at first but when she looked at him she knew. But when she looked in his eyes it seemed as if it pained him and she became confused all over again.

She could not help but think that he had some regret with what he had done. Maglor had to have told him why she was here, of the dark deeds of her past. Did he think less of her now? Did he think that perhaps she would slip a knife into his chest as well? He had to know that she only did what she had to do.

She came to the main hall and found it empty, but the silence that greeted her held no comfort tonight. She turned and walked hastily to her rooms, praying fervently that he would be there, but when she opened her door she found her rooms empty.

Fear began to build inside her and tears threatened to flow. She had to see him. She knew his chambers were somewhere down here. This used to be his study after all so they could not be far. She would find him. He had walked into her rooms plenty of times without permission, she had earned the right. As she walked down the corridor she stopped, a sudden horrifying thought coming to her mind. What if she found him and he did not wish to see her? What if her actions had appalled him to the point of revulsion? 

_No,_ she thought _. I have done nothing wrong. I did what I had to and no one will stand in judgment of me_.

Anger started to build up now and she decided she would not hunt him down. He had found her before, he could find her again. It was not for her to roam the halls seeking him out.

Suddenly a hand shot out of the dark and spun her around, the walls flying by in a blur. And when she felt his mouth press against hers, she kissed him back eagerly any and all pretense of defiance gone. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her to him with such force she thought she would never catch her breath. The bond between them pulsed and she buried her face into his neck, overwhelmed with joy as he lifted her up and carried her into his chambers.


	6. Chapter 6

Maedhros leaned back in the chair in front of the fire. He wore nothing but his breeches, unconcerned with exposed scars. He did not even bother to tie the laces to his pants, allowing them to hang loosely about his waist. He stared at the figure sleeping in his bed. She lay on her stomach, covers draped across her, leaving her back exposed. Her hair fanned out over the side of the bed obscuring her face. But he knew she slept. He could feel her content through the bond they shared and knew she was at peace. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, inhaling her serenity, allowing it to wash over him. It was in these moments he felt young again, he felt whole again. As if some missing piece to the puzzle had finally snapped into place and all of the horrors of the past were nothing more than a bad dream.

_It changes nothing._

His eyes snapped open as Macalaurë's voice rang through his mind, disturbing his calm like ripples on a pond. The figure on the bed stirred slightly but did not wake. He settled his mind again and looked back at the fire.

Macalaurë. While Maedhros had not told his brother anything, Macalaurë knew. He knew and said nothing.

That was fine with Maedhros. He did not feel that he owed any explanation and had no intention of giving one. This was his and his alone. He had sacrificed everything, his youth, his love of word, the kingship, Káno – instinctively he grabbed his wrist, stifling the dull throb that started in his arm with even the thought of the name. The figure on the bed stirred again and let out a soft moan. Maedhros closed his eyes and calmed his mind once more. The bond. It made her susceptible to his pain. She could feel it as surely as her own. He would not allow himself to pass his torment on to her.

Káno was gone, never to return and she could never replace him. Maedhros had thought he would never care about anything again as much as he did for Káno. But somehow she found him and awoke something he had not thought he was capable of anymore. The love she felt for him coursed through their bond and, all the things he had been denied in the past, he reveled in now selfishly. He could never have enough of her, the feel of her skin and the way her body felt when she was wrapped around him. He gazed at her hair and the curve of her back. The way her arms crossed beneath her head and the space between her neck and shoulder; her eyes in the firelight.

He smiled. She was awake now. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye and knew she was watching him through the curtain of hair. She could not control the bond the way he could and he could tell much. She thought him beautiful. His scarred and deformed body was perfect to her and she loved it all. She accepted everything and questioned nothing.

He stood up and crossed the room and crawled into the bed next to her. She immediately turned to face him, arms wrapping around his neck and a leg hiking up around his waist. He looked into her eyes. No, she was not Káno, but he found that when he was with her, the name did not hurt as much as it used to.

 

* * *

 

"Mára aurë," said Saeran as she entered the kitchen.

"Aiya!" the three men answered back without stopping their work. One of the three called out to her a she walked through. "Titta osellë!" he said and tossed a bundle to her. She smiled at him.

"Hantanyel," she called as she walked out the door and into the corridor.

"Namárië," they answered after her in unison. Saeran laughed softly as she left the kitchen. They had come a long way, the four of them. She walked in to the main hall where Elros sat with Evon waiting for her and set one of the bundles down next to them.

" _His_  lunch," she said gesturing to Evon as she slapped Elros's hand away. "This is yours and your brother's." She dropped the rest down in his lap and he gave out an "omph" of surprise. He flashed one of his winning smiles.

"Sweet lady, how can I ever repay you for the care you show us?" Saeran placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head at him.

"Teach him his letters and don't eat his share."

Elros narrowed his eyes at her. "You drive a hard bargain, but I accept."

Saeran shook her head at him and gave him a playful swat at his head which he easily avoided. Elrond walked up behind them carrying several books and reams of parchment.

"Come," he said, "we have much to do before we meet with Maglor today." He dropped some of the books on Elros's lap causing yet another surprised "omph" to escape his lips. "We are to translate these from Quenya to Sindarin before we meet with him to go over the metallurgy we were to study last night." Elrond looked at his brother. "You did study last night?" Elros took great offense at the question.

"Of course," he cried indignantly. "I just need to take a quick look at your notes to refresh myself."

Saeran looked at the three young boys in front of her. Well, at least one young boy. The other two were easily young men now. The twins would be sixteen with the coming of the warm season and Evon would turn five. Evon tried to emulate everything they did, he worshiped them so. They were infallible to him and he followed them everywhere. And when he could not follow them he attached himself to Maglor, begging him to read some book or play some tune, to which Maglor always obliged. She had tried to pull Evon away one day, fearing that he was becoming a nuisance and Maglor stopped her, assuring her that the time spent was treasured. And while he smiled as he spoke she could not help but feel an undercurrent of sadness in his words. She often wondered how much Maglor knew of her and Maedhros, or if he knew anything. In truth, she did not believe you could really hide anything from Maglor, even if you wanted to. She had asked Maedhros once if his brother knew of where she spent her nights but he just laughed.

"You just continue with your days as you normally would," he told her. "Your nights are no one's concern but mine." She would be lying if she said she was not pleased with that answer.

The first few months had been problematic for her. She had a very difficult time staying away from him. She would find herself wandering the keep hoping to run into him like some silly girl, staring dewey-eyed after him from across the room. She did not feel it was just her though. He enjoyed walking past her where she sat and letting his hand brush lightly against her hair or along her back, causing her to shudder involuntarily. He would always keep walking away after, leaving her to gather her wits about her on her own. She could feel his satisfaction through the bond and her irritation at that only seemed to please him even more.

It was the damn bond. It gave her away every time. She often wondered just what all he could tell of her from their bond but whenever she asked him he would just smile at her and say "much".

That was fine though for she had her tricks as well.

While it was almost impossible for her discern specific feelings, she knew when she was getting rise out of him. Once, on a particularly hot day outside, her hair was free and she pulled it up with her hands to the top of her head and held it there, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed for the breeze, loose tendrils falling from her grip. She felt him through the bond then, a warm heat washing over her. And while she could not find where he watched her, she knew that he did. After that she would wear her hair free about her shoulders and always in his presence, she would casually gather her hair up or push all of it to one shoulder exposing the side of her neck.

Always the same reaction, the same rush of heat.

After a night of her pulling her hair to the side and leaning a certain way in front of him, he had grabbed her in the hallway and took her to his room, muttering about "foolish games" and "silly girls". She just laughed and exposed more than her neck as she covered him in kisses.

Another time, Evon had taken a fall from Elros's horse and her heart felt like it had jumped out of her chest as she ran over to him blind with panic. Miraculously Evon was fine with only minor cuts and bruises, but as she stood to take him to Hestil she saw Maedhros in the distance on Ectheldoth. He had been with Thannor on the other side of the keep so she knew that he would have ridden hard to get there so fast.

Still, desire seemed to course through the bond more than anything and she wondered why that was stronger than most. She had asked him one night as they lay in his bed.

"It is like that in the early years from what I have been told," he said while absently twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers. "For begetting a child mostly I suppose." Saeran gave a start when she heard that and looked up at Maedhros.

"Children?" she squeaked. "You mean having babies?"

He gave her a bemused look came over his face, "The last time I checked, that was the usual result from begetting." Saeran sat up and pushed herself away, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms about her knees. Her hair fell from Maedhros's hand, his bemused expression gone replaced with concern. "What? Tell me, what?" He sat up and pushed her hair back to see her face.

"I . . . Evon's birth was hard on me, on my body and my husband – my late husband . . . well, he was not the tender sort," she paused to find the words and Maedhros felt anger fester in the back of his mind at the thought of the late husband. "I cannot have children Maedhros, ever again. It is impossible for me to carry."

He understood her then. She thought he would not want her anymore. He reached for her and pulled her partially on top of him and resumed playing with her hair.

"I was never meant to have children Saeran. I came to peace with this a long time ago," he chuckled softly as he spoke. "I am too old anyway."

Something about what Maedhros just said touched at the back of Saeran's mind. Reminding her of something she had heard before but could not quite remember. But then Maedhros pressed his lips to hers and all thought was lost.

"I have you," he said, "and that is enough." Maedhros stared at the lock of hair he spun around his fingers for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you miss your late husband?"

Saeran looked at him slowly, as if he had sprouted another head. "You are aware how he became my "late" husband yes?" she asked somewhat warily. Maedhros let out a laugh before he could stop himself.

"Yes, I am aware." He smiled as he continued to play with her hair. "I was just wondering if you felt regret."

Saeran laid her head on his chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart for some time before she spoke.

"Fferyll's only contribution to my existence was the creation of my sons. And even that was torture. After the birth of Evon it was determined that I would never have another child and I spent many nights in fear waiting for him to dispose of me, for I was now a useless thing, something he took great pleasure in reminding me of. He was cruel and hateful and I have no regret over his loss other than the certain doom I left my mother to." She stopped for a moment and thinking again on what she had done. "If my soul is damned for these acts then it is a worthy sacrifice to save my sons. Although," she spoke now so softly now that if Maedhros had not the hearing of the Eldar, he would never have heard, "one was lost regardless so perhaps that is the price I pay for my wickedness."

Maedhros suddenly held Saeran tight to him as he rolled over and situated himself on top her. He pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. She felt herself respond and arched her body against his. When he finally released her, she was shrouded in his hair and his eyes were ablaze with light so white it seared into her. His lips lightly brushed against her as he spoke.

"You are not wicked," he whispered in her ear, and she trembled as she felt the warmth of his breath and the feather light touch of his lips travel down the line of her neck. "You are mine now," he said softly as he positioned himself between her legs, his mouth gently moving to the other side of her neck. "Nothing will ever harm you again, this I –" that was all he was able to say for she pulled him into her then unable to deny herself any longer. But words were no longer needed for they spoke to each other through their bond and she lost herself in his light as it consumed them.

And so she went about her days in the usual manner, which consisted of assisting Hestil whenever she was needed most of the time. Being the middle of winter there were plenty of colds and coughs to deal with, but nothing beyond the aid of a warm meal and rest. She enjoyed her time with Hestil and found herself wishing she could tell her the secret she carried.

Saeran still took time to see Dannil as well, in spite of the cold weather. Hestil always fussed at her to wrap up when she did, always reminding her how easily the second born get sick. So she wrapped up in the fur lined cloak and gloves she had and made her way to Dannil's hill. She would never stop going. For as long as her legs would carry her she would come out here. A light snow had begun to fall and she wrapped her cloak tight around her where she sat. The tree had been partially pulled up with the last large quake that had shaken the land, but it did not die. She liked to think it stayed to offer some shelter for her son. He would have been sixteen this season as well.

She rubbed at her eyes. She did not wish to start crying out here today. It was too cold and her nose would run. She felt for the bond and found the comfort she needed.

She smiled to herself and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She would not stay long today. Even if it had not been so cold, she still would leave early. Maglor had asked her not to wander to far from the keep. Many evacuees from various areas of Beleriand had been passing through on their way to the mountains and not all were agreeable. Maglor felt there were some very unsavory types coming through lately and while he did not deny anyone aid, he did not let some of them tarry; giving them supplies and then sending them quickly on their way. She would head back soon. It was cold and her nose would run and she knew if she did not get Evon, he would try to stay outside with the twins and Maglor as they practiced with swords today. They did not feel the cold the she and Evon did and Evon did not seem to understand he was not an elf.

She kissed her hand and placed it on the small mound that was becoming sprinkled with snow. With a sigh she pulled herself from the ground and headed back to the keep.

She made her way past the practice yard to see if Evon was with the twins. A she approached the clearing she stopped just short of it, remaining in the tree line. Evon was at the edge of the ring atop Thannor's shoulders.

It never ceased to amaze her, the fascination that the elves of the keep had with her son. Even the soldiers would stop what they were doing to assist with him. She was not sure if it was because there were no children in the keep or if elves just liked children in general, but Evon was never lacking for fathers.

But that is not what she watched at the moment. The twins were starting a round of sparring practice and in the center of the ring were Maedhros and his brother. Back to back they stood with the twins and an extra soldier each flanking them on both sides. The twins wore a light armor and Elros wielded a long spear while Elrond had his practice sword. Maedhros and Maglor wore nothing more than thin overcoats over their tunics, although Maedhros had his cloak on and draped over his right arm as usual. Saeran noticed jealously that the cold did not touch any of them.

_I bet their noses have never run a day in their lives_ , she thought bitterly.

When she realized that Maedhros was completely unaware of her presence, so focused was he on the task at hand, she decided to stay and watch. She was rarely ever able to walk up on Maedhros unnoticed and wanted to take advantage of it.

Maedhros and Maglor never moved as they watched the twins and the other two guards circle cautiously around them. And when movement finally did come, it was quick and Saeran became light headed trying to follow it.

She thought it started with Elros and his man lunging first and Maedhros dropping down so Maglor could parry Elros and Maedhros could block Elrond who attacked as soon as Elros moved. But then Maedhros was back facing Elros, snapping his cloak like a whip to push the boy back and parry the other soldier as Maglor spun back to Elrond and his man. It was dizzying to watch, but from what she could tell, Maedhros and Maglor never left the other's side. They never left the other exposed. Their movements were almost as one, fluid and quick. No ground was gained for Elros, Elrond or their men and the frustration became plain on the twins faces. But Maedhros and Maglor betrayed nothing. Their faces were blank and unreadable.

The difference was striking on Maglor. Saeran was so used to his visage seeming gentle, if not tired, in a far off day-dreamy kind of way. This look did not suit him and yet when he moved it was as natural to him as if he were taking up his music.

But where it was unsettling on Maglor, it was terrifying on Maedhros. She did not know who he was at the moment. He looked . . . cold, unfeeling. He landed every blow with deadly accuracy. And he pulled nothing and spared no one. Several times Elrond and Elros would get taken down only to scramble desperately out of the way before he landed the next blow, knowing that if it connected they would not be getting up as quickly as they went down.

But his face is what haunted her most. Gone were the stormy grey eyes that looked on her with such longing at times that she would have to leave his presence if others were around. They looked black now, and empty. A thought came to her as she watched him like this, something she had heard somewhere that was now dredged up like the memory of a bad dream, something about chance and fate.

_Ill chances and strange fates_.

As the thought rang through her mind, she looked at Maedhros and was suddenly afraid.

Maedhros abruptly turned and looked to where she stood in the trees, his cold dead stare landing directly on her causing her to take an involuntary step back.

Elros saw his distraction as an opportunity and leapt at him, spear swinging. Maedhros simply stepped aside and caught Elros's feet with his cloak and yanked the boy straight to the ground with a loud thud. Elrond turned and attempted to go to his brother's aid and ended up being disarmed and dropped on the ground next to him by Maglor.

"Elros," said Maglor, "when are you going to learn to keep your feet on the ground?" He bent down and took the twins by the hands and helped them both up.

"I will tag you one day," said Elros rubbing his backside. Maglor raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on Elros's shoulder.

"And when you do I will give my sword to you, but until then," he poked his finger at the young man's chest, "keep your feet on the ground." Elros broke into a wide smile.

"I will hold you to that."

"I am sure you will."

Maedhros never turned from the trees, his eyes locked where Saeran stood. She could not move.

"Again!" he barked. "That was sloppy. Thannor, take the boy inside to wait for his mother. We will need you for the next one."

If there was any dissention about having to go again no one spoke. They simply gathered themselves and began to reset. Thannor turned with Evon towards the keep and Saeran silently tore herself from Maedhros's gaze to follow, never stepping out of the tree line. And while she was certain no one could see her where she walked in the shadows, she knew that one set of eyes never left her as she did.

 

* * *

 

_That night Maedhros and Thannor rode hard through the hills of Amon Ereb and along the great wall. The battle was raging today and the ground rumbled under the weight. After reaching the nearest peak of the Andram they looked over the remains of Doriath to where the war pushed towards Tol Sirion and into the north. The hosts of the Valar were arrayed in forms young and fair and terrible and the mountains rang beneath their feet._

_But the host of Morgoth was also great with uncounted legions of orcs and the whole of the north was aflame with war. But it was the fires that held Maedhros and slowly filled him with the dread of the past. The flames of unnatural heat, searing the eyes and the skin. The Balrogs came forth in numbers great beyond count and Maedhros closed his eyes to the memories of Thangorodrim and of Balrogs that crushed bodies to pulp beneath their feet. He sought out the bond to remind himself he was no longer alone but found little comfort._

_For the first time in many days he felt dread._

 

* * *

 

That night Saeran found herself standing upon a great precipice.

It was lightless and unfamiliar. She thought she was alone in the gloom when a man came towards her from the shadows. At first she had thought it was Maedhros, for he had his face but his hair was dark and he was bigger and brighter in a way she did not think possible. He was blinding to look at for her and she had to turn away.

But when she did, he began to change.

His eyes became a sickly yellow and his teeth became pointed and sharp and he wore a crown with two glowing orbs upon it. She tried to run but found herself chained and unable to escape. And then he laughed. He just laughed and laughed as monsters made of fire began to cut along her body.

Saeran jerked awake with a gasp to find herself back in her room, Maedhros lying next to her. Her breathing was ragged and she struggled to control it. She pushed her hair from her face to find herself damp with sweat. Holding her hand to her chest he regained control of her senses and look down at Maedhros and saw his eyes flutter beneath closed lids. 

_He is sleeping_ , she thought in slight shock.

Every night he had spent in her rooms or her in his, she had always awaked to him either staring down at her or sitting in front of the fire. Never before had she ever seen him sleep, much less dream as she thought he was doing now. And from what she could tell, it did not look to be a pleasant dream. He had returned late tonight. She had already been in her rooms asleep when he arrived and unaware of him joining her in bed. The tremors had started again with increased frequency and he and Thannor had ridden out to survey the damage. She did not like it when he left on these forays into the wild. He came back grim and pensive. And the bond, while always there seemed to feel . . . murky to her. As if she knew of his presence but could not find him or reach him. No, she did not like that sensation at all. As she looked down at him she touched at the bond lightly and recoiled in alarm. Turmoil and fear and rage coursed through in such force she thought it would tear her from the inside. She laid her hand upon his chest and spoke gently.

"Maedhros," she whispered. His eyes continued to flutter rapidly and she thought he may have flinched when she said his name. "Maedhros," she said, her voice becoming more urgent with each word. "Maedhros please my love, wake. Mae – "

Saeran stopped talking suddenly unsure of what was happening. The words were on her lips and she tried to speak but found she could not. She could not breathe. Somehow she had become pinned against the headboard and could no longer breathe. A great pressure was upon her throat and her hands reflexively reached up to remove the obstacle only to find she could not. It was a hand and it was crushing her.

Realization and panic began to build inside of her as she looked at her assailant.

Maedhros stood hunched over her, his face contorted with rage and his eyes, his beautiful grey eyes, were black. Gone were the fire and stars. Black, empty, dead eyes stared at her filled with cold, vengeful death. He was hissing something at her, but she could not understand him. Her vision was becoming blurry and the frantic blows she rained down on his arm did nothing. Desperately she reached around for something, anything to defend herself with. She felt something hanging along the head board, something long and heavy at the end. And with a last determined burst of energy she swung the item at Maedhros as hard as she could, striking him along the face. It did not knock him down, but his head snapped to the side and he seemed to awaken from his stupor. His grip relaxed on her throat and she dropped down on the bed, ragged desperate gasps for breath came from her person.

Maedhros looked at his hand next to her throat, the belt in her hand, and felt the welt forming on the side of his face. A horrible awareness came to him. He shrank back against the headboard, the horror of what he had done becoming clear in his mind.

Saeran was on all fours on the bed, her head hanging down, still gulping air into her lungs. She wanted to reach to him, to comfort him but found her movement sluggish and when she tried to raise her hand out to him she ended up collapsing on her side. Maedhros let out a little cry at this and reached out and scooped her up into his arms, kissed her face and wept.

 

* * *

 

 

"Maitimo what have you done."

Maedhros looked at his brother and said nothing. He knew not what to say. The nightmares that had been gone for so long, the dark spirits that had hunted him in the night, they had found him again. After almost a year of evading them, they tried to take him again and this time, they tried to take her as well. The bruises on her neck, dark and angry, accused him every time he looked at her. When Maglor saw Saeran's neck, the silence he had kept for so long was now over.

"Why?" Maglor asked. "Why would you do this? Create this bond with her?" Maedhros said nothing, only looked away to the floor. "It changes nothing, Maitimo – the oath is still there, it will always be there and now you have tied her to our fate."

"It is not about the oath."

"What then?"

"I do not know."

"Loneliness?"

"Maca-"

"She is second born, she will die."

"Enough."

"You are placing a bandage over a wound that cannot heal."

"Enough Macalaurë."

"She is not Káno."

" _ENOUGH_!" Maedhros's voice boomed through the hall and silence fell. He looked to the floor unable to face his brother's eyes. "I know she is not, I know but . . . I need this Macalaurë. I need her. Never did I think I would be able to feel this again. Never did I think myself worthy . . ." Maglor watched his brother in silence and waited for him to continue.

"I have only ever done what was expected of me. For our father, for my brothers, for our people, for the Valar, for bloody Eru himself!" Maedhros stopped suddenly and fell back against the wall and looked pleadingly at his brother. "Please," he begged, "just . . . she has filled the emptiness inside me. I would . . . But now . . ." Maedhros dropped his head, the list of failures that was his life playing out again and again in his mind. Maglor looked at his brother, struck by what he saw. He was a boy again, made desperate from his self-perceived failures and their father's disappointment. Maglor walked over to his brother and took his face in his hands. He pulled Maedhros's head back up, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"But now what," he asked.

"But now I know I am not worthy. I took something I do not deserve."

"Oh Nelyo," he said using the name he had not said since they were children. "Do you love her?"

Maedhros looked at him with such misery that Maglor feared for his brother's sanity.

"Yes," he whispered desolately, "and now I fear I must turn away from her forever."

 

* * *

 

 

Maglor walked stood at the outer gate of the keep and watched as the peredhil rode out with Thannor. They were sixteen now and Maedhros and Maglor agreed that it was time for them to join in some of the smaller excursions. Maglor would sometimes join them but only when Maedhros refused to enter the keep forcing Maglor to ride out with them to his brother's camp. Maglor sighed. He would prefer not to go at all, having no more desire to seek out war or hunt the occasional stray orc, but Maedhros's penchant for theatrics is the one thing about him that has never waned. It was becoming quite tiresome. If he did come into the keep it was in the late hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning, depending on how you looked at it. He would skulk quietly through so as not to alert anyone to his presence. Maglor did not know what he thought to prove. Did he plan on continuing this game until she died or left? The keep was not large and eventually he will be confronted with her. They were bound to each other for Manwë's sake, how does one hide from that? But when he had presented Maedhros with that fact, his brother simply shook him off.

" _I almost killed her Macalaurë."_

" _This is your solution?"_

" _I can find no other way. The bond will lesson in time. It has too . . . in time."_

_Maglor wanted to grab Maedhros and shake him. It does not lesson with time, this Maglor knew better than anyone._

" _And so you would abandon me as well."_

_He had regretted it as soon as he said it. But he was angry now and lashed out the only way he could, through guilt and his brother's sense of duty. Maedhros seemed to wilt with the words and Maglor knew he had won. He knew Maedhros would stay because he looked at Maglor now with the same resignation he had looked at Tyelkormo with when their younger brother's demanded they move against Dior, he had the same look of defeat when Amrod had insisted for action at the Havens. He would stay now even though it would pain him grievously to do so._

" _You are right," he said and his shoulders slumped over, "of course you are right."_

_Maglor went to his brother and wrapped him in an embrace and Maedhros collapsed against him. He would not do this to him._

" _No Nelyo no," he said. "Do as you feel you must." He pulled back so he could look in his brother's eyes. "But I do not think you will find what you seek." Maedhros gave a small bitter laugh._

" _We are Fëanorians Macalaurë," Maedhros whispered, "it is our fate to never find what we seek." And then he left._

Maglor sighed at the memory. Leave it to Maitimo to find a way. And now he was left here with a very upset and angry atani woman.

She was understandably confused at first. It was not uncommon for Maedhros to go out for days at a time, but three months had passed and still he had not returned, at least not that she was aware of anyway. Every night she would sit in the main hall, sometimes sleeping there, waiting. She asked Maglor of Maedhros's whereabouts at first, in a casual off hand way, and every time he would give her the same answer. He did not know. It was not a lie necessarily. He really did not know where he went to or when he would return unless he sent some word. But she had noticed that the twins had started to go on long forays and when their begetting day came and went with still no sign, she stopped asking. After that she never said much, but it did not take him being bound to her to feel her anger.

Maglor rubbed at his temples. He was surrounded by children. He looked down at the boy who stood next to him, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face as he watched the twins ride off without him. Maglor raised an eyebrow at the boy.  _Completely surrounded,_ he thought.

"Come little one," he said holding out his hand for Evon to take, "perhaps we can go right to our music lesson today."

Evon took begrudgingly took his hand but brightened somewhat when Maglor spoke about music.

Maglor smiled at the boy. He really was quite fond of him. He had always wanted children himself but . . . well, fate had dictated otherwise. He had come to terms with his bitterness over this some time ago. He made his choices and now he would live with them. But he had been allowed a small taste of joy because of the peredhil and despite of the abhorrent way they came about caring for them, he was thankful. It was because of them that there was a small flicker of hope in Maglor at bringing about some semblance of a life, free of the Oath. It was a futile hope really, but he still held on to it. He had the same hope for Maedhros as well. But when he saw the bruises on Saeran's neck, he knew his brother's demons had resurfaced to torment him.

Maedhros had never been the same since his captivity, since Thangorodrim. And his hurt had only been compounded with the death of Findekáno. Káno had always been the only one who could bring Maedhros out of his dark spells. A sadness came over Maglor has he thought of him. 

_Dear sweet Káno,_  he thought,  _who bore good will towards all, hating Morgoth only, seeking neither power nor glory, and death was his reward._  

Maglor felt the tiny hand he held squeeze his and he looked down to see Evon looking up at him curiously. Maglor smiled at the boy and shook off his melancholy. There were matters to attend to.

Maglor approached the outer encampment of the keep to see a small caravan that had stopped on their way through. Goweston stood before one of the travelers talking but it was Saeran's reaction that had his attention. She stood in the shadows of the doorway of the keep watching the group warily, making an effort not to be noticed. Maglor turned back to the group before him. Upon first glance they seemed like any other group of refugees fleeing the war for stable lands. But as Maglor looked closer he began to notice specifics about this group. He noticed the women and children were walking while the men rode. The men were swarthy and covered in great beards and the furs they offered for trade were black. The pelts of wolves. Black wolves of the north, from Lothlann. 

_Easterlings from Lothlann, that is why she is afraid._  Maglor bristled and called Goweston over to him.

"What do they seek." He spoke in Quenya and could hear the enmity ring clear in his voice. If Goweston noticed he showed nothing.

"They wish to trade and have horses that need to be reshod. I was about to allow them through, would you prefer . . ." he trailed off at the end and waited for his lord to tell him. Maglor stared coolly at the group before him. Several turned away but the man Goweston had been talking to stared back at Maglor briefly, until he too began to shift with uncertainty under the elven lord's gaze, eventually looking away.

"Bring the farrier and have their horses reshod then send them on their way. We have no need for anything they have." Maglor swept past the group with Evon in tow and several of the group lowered their heads as he went by. Evon broke off from him as they reached the main doors and ran to his mother who threw a nervous look back over her shoulder as she gathered her son and followed Maglor inside.

Later that evening Maglor sat in his chamber next to the open window. Until they were in the peak of the warm season evenings remained relatively cool and pleasant. Maglor enjoyed leaving the windows open to catch the night air. Sometimes he would look to the skies for the light of Gil-Estel, although he knew it was no star. He took some small comfort in knowing it was out of harm and temptation's way and safe from those who would covet it. 

_A beacon of the glory days of the house of Fëanor till the end of time_ , he thought caustically.

He swirled the wine in his glass. It was a very dry wine and went with his mood. Maedhros's actions had made him very reflective over the last few months and the peredhil's absence left him with much time to ponder.

He heard what sounded like thunder in the distance but when he felt the vibration through the floor he knew it was not one of the seasonal storms that rolled through this time. He sat still and waited it out and it was over almost as quickly as it began. This land would be torn to shreds in the end and he would not mourn. He was sick of war and he despised those jewels. He wished with every ounce of his being that they would be destroyed along with the rest of this land and the memories that haunted it. 

_So many gone now_.

He closed his eyes, willing is mind to forget. It was getting easier to do with time. He must have dozed because he did not hear the door to his room open and the little feet that padded in, only taking notice when he felt the pressure of something climbing up onto his lap. He opened his eyes in surprise.

"Well hello little one," he said with a smile and adjusted the boy so they could both be more comfortable. Maglor looked down at the boy.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Evon nuzzled against Maglor's chest and began to play with a lock of his hair.

"Can't sleep," he said, "the ground was growling again."

"Ah, you were afraid?"

"No . . . maybe."

Maglor smiled and placed a finger under the child's chin, gently pulling his face up so he could see him. "You should not fear, do you not remember what I told you when you first came here?"

"I am not afraid of the growling," Evon said looking at Maglor his large, sleepy eyes. "I am afraid of falling into the ocean."

Maglor gave him a playfully surprised look. "The ocean?"

"Yes, when the dragons come the ground will shake and fall into the ocean." Maglor's brow furrowed slightly at the sincerity of his tone.

"What makes you say this?"

"Elrond told me."

"Elrond said this to you?" The look on Maglor's face was not as playful this time.

"Well no," Evon looked back down, as if he had been caught doing something he should not. "He told Elros but I could hear him."

Maglor looked away. When Elrond was younger he would run to Maglor terrified of images that he would see in his mind. He would speak of things that seemed strange and incredible to Maglor. At first he spoke of wars and battles which were not very surprising given the circumstances of his coming to stay with the brothers. But then he spoke dreams about rings and a maiden who was chained, of Maedhros surrounded by fire and Maglor trapped by the sea. He said he saw men who could wield magic and dragons hoarding treasures. And he had spoken of a great battle that would rend the world in half. Maglor would calm him down as best he could, but he could not help but consider if any of it could have real meaning or if they were just dreams. Eventually they stopped, either that or Elrond was able to cope with them now. Maglor never asked. He looked back down at Evon.

"You should not listen to other's conversations Evon." The child laid his head back against Maglor and resumed playing with a lock of his hair.

"I am sorry," he said and let out a very large yawn while rubbing his eyes.

"Come," said Maglor, "I will take you to your mother. She will be worried if she finds you missing."

"She is not here."

Maglor froze. "What."

"She is not here. She went out." Evon relaxed into Maglor's chest and closed his eyes. "I think she lost something outside. She is trying to find it."

Maglor turned and looked out the window. A litany of swear words directed towards his brother coursed through his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

_She never turned when he rode up even though she had to have heard him._

" _It is dangerous to be out here alone Saeran."_

" _I know."_

" _I would prefer to be indoors."_

" _Then go."_

_I should go, he thought. This is not my concern, damn it Maitimo._

" _Forgive me," she said, "I should not have said . . ."_

" _This is not of your doing."_

" _I know," she said. "It is his."_

_Maglor said nothing. He had no words. She turned to him and spoke_

" _He has made his intentions clear. I will not be the reason why he feels he cannot return to his home. I will leave with my son with the next group who passes through on their way to Ered Luin. We will seek haven with Gil-Galad's people and trouble him no more."_

_Her words hung in the air between them for several moments before Maglor spoke._

" _As you wish. Although it saddens me greatly to see the two of you go."_

_He realized he meant it. They walked back together in silence._

 

* * *

 

 

Saeran wiped the tears from her face for what she hoped would be the last time. When she had woke the next morning Maedhros could barely look at her. He had forced her to sit as his fingers gently probed along her neck, carefully searching for any unseen hurt. She had tried to reassure him she was fine but she could see the pain in his eyes and felt his guilt through their bond. She had held his face in her hands. She kissed his head, his eyes, the corners of his mouth, and begged him to stop this torment. He gave her a sad smile, kissed her deeply and left.

A fortnight went by and she did not see him. And then another fortnight after that, and another after that and still nothing. She would reach out for her bond and could not feel him. He was there, of that she was aware, but his heart felt . . . cut off. Unreachable and closed off to her. Something had gone up in some way, keeping her out. She knew he was alive and still connected to her but the emotion, the responsiveness; the thrill was just . . . gone.

Saeran had tried not to become concerned at first. He would not forsake her; she believed this with all of her heart. And so she waited and watched for him. She sent her love through the bond every day, waiting for him to return to her for in the beginning she truly believed he would. But the days and nights continued to go by without any signs. When Saeran would casually inquire with Maglor of Maedhros's return he would become vague and his face veiled of all expression. But when she learned that the twins had started leaving at random times to meet Thannor, their comings and goings always shrouded in mystery she knew. She became despondent upon learning that. She would cry into the night and begged the heavens to bring him back. She knew that he was far better at controlling the bond and discerning the myriad of emotions that would course through it. How could he not feel her sadness? How could he just turn away from her pain? She wandered at night on to the property and to Dannil's hill, desperate for some sign of his presence. But he never came and if he felt anything she never knew.

It was then that the anger set in. Now, she was becoming bitter. Now she was just pissed.

Several days went by where she would rage into the bond, sending out her anger and bitterness at her circumstance. How could he? Why would he do this? Was everything he said a lie? She was nothing more than temporary distraction from the daily toils of his very long life. She began to feel shame, she began to feel dirty. She would venture out and shout her anger into the night, cursing at him for his callowness and her weakness until she dragged herself back exhausted. And then one night she went out to Dannil's hill and felt nothing. The anger, the sadness, the loss, she had become too numb to feel anything anymore. She could no longer live this way. She would no longer live this way. It was on this night Maglor had found her and she made her decision. She would not touch at the bond again and she would leave Amon Ereb as soon as she could.

It took a week for the next caravan to come through and since Maglor had provided Saeran with a small wagon and a pony there were no objections to her joining them. They would follow the river Gelion north to the dwarven road through the mountains and then make their way to the settlements of Ered Luin or Lindon as they were now being called. She did not take many of the belongings they had acquired during their stay. She could have helped herself to anything but only requested a few items. She asked for food of course, some of the twin's old tunics and breeches for traveling and a weapon. Yes, this time she would most certainly travel with a weapon. Maglor gave her two, a crossbow and an elven dagger. Hestil had given her supplies as well and wept great amounts of tears when it came time for her to depart. Even her friends from the kitchens had come out to say good bye, each giving her a bundle. They had been surprised when she grabbed each one in turn and gave them a hug. But her friend who had had the tray of glasses embraced her back and whispered in her ear.

"Tenna enta lúmë."

And so they left and traveled late into the night until the leader of the group, a man called Cormick, felt they could go no further. Several of the men had conferred and felt they were close enough to the road to stop in relative safety, and they set camp upon reaching the river. Something Maglor had said to her about the dwarven road scratched at her in the back of her mind but she pushed it aside. Saeran was tired and sore and Evon was irritable. He was very upset with her about leaving and protested vocally when he found out he would not even be able to tell the twins good bye. It broke Saeran's heart to see him say is farewells to Maglor. He tried not to cry which seemed to only make things worse. Making the gulping sounds that come when trying to stifle your tears.

The caravan moved slowly and night fell before they could make the road so they had to make do. There were enough in this group that Saeran felt safe with stopping. They pulled the few wagons they had in to a circular formation and had the women and children sleep in the middle while the men kept watch. Sleep came sporadically and Saeran found herself up most of the night. Which was perhaps why she was able to detect the first signs of trouble. Evon lay on the ground sleeping under the wagon when she woke again. Something pulled her from her rest and she was unsure of what. Something familiar though and troubling. The night had gone quiet with only the occasion stomp or snort of one of the ponies. She looked around and saw one of the other women laying on her back with eyes wide and watching the top of the wagons. When she looked up she saw several of the men alert and staring into the dark. Something had their attention and Saeran feared to find out what. She slowly reached across to her satchel and took out the elven dagger and tied it to her waist. She then grabbed the crossbow, placed her foot in the stirrup, pulled back the string and loaded a bolt to fire. She gently prodded Evon awake, placing her hand over his mouth and a finger to her lips so he would not make any noise. He was confused at first but then his eyes widened and he looked at her with fear. She sat him up and had him hunch under the wagon next to the wheel. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest.

"You are to stay right here," she whispered. "When I tell you too or if I should fall you are to make for the forest as fast as you can, do you understand?" He stared at her wide eyed. " _Do you_?!" she hissed. He nodded slowly. "Good. Do not move."

She turned back and looked up at the backs of the men who peered in to the night. Slowly she raised herself so she could see where they watched. Right as she came to eye level with the top of the wagon she heard a whistling sound buzz past her ear and a surprised gasp from one of the men on the wagon. From that point on, everything seemed to happen simultaneously. Cormick yelled out and one of the men fell into the center of the wagon circle clutching at the thick black shaft that protruded from his leg. The horses reared and tried to pull from their restraints and the other woman who was awake began screaming.

The first orc leapt through the air over the wagons at the men atop of them and it was not long before it was joined by more. The men had put themselves between the orcs and the wagons and were fighting them off fiercely. The woman's screams had awaken the rest of the group and several women began grabbing children and scurrying under the wagons for cover. Saeran and a few others grabbed weapons and made themselves ready if any should get past, which they did.

The first one that got through Saeran was able to bring down quickly with the crossbow. A second was brought down as she was reloading by a young girl with her own short bow. The third one received Saeran's bolt in its chest, but when she saw another directly behind it she knew she would not be able to reload in time. As it flew through the air at her she swung the crossbow at it with everything she had, knocking it off balance to the side where several women jumped on it and began beating it with whatever they had.

Saeran looked back just in time to see another orc swing a mace at her head, she was able to get herself back some but not before it was able to land a partial blow. Her vision exploded into a thousand stars and intense pain shot through her arm where she blocked most of the hit. Dizzy and almost blind with pain she pulled the knife from its sheath around her waist and turned to defend herself from imminent attack. Only when she turned, instead of finding a mace coming towards her, she saw the orc who attacked her looking at its own chest in confusion, plucking at the long arrow shaft that stuck out of it. Saeran looked around and saw riders on horseback attacking and chasing orcs from the wagons, striking them down where they ran. The orc in front of Saeran suddenly realized that the odds had quickly turned against them and tried to make his escape under the wagons when she leapt on him. She drove her knife into its neck and twisted, its screams becoming drowned gurgling sounds in the back of what was left of its throat. When it had finally stopped kicking, she pulled the knife out of the beast's neck and looked up at the night sky. Saeran closed her eyes and listened to the shouts of the men. Her heart was racing and something warm was running down her face. She was dazed and felt a hand on her shoulder and when she looked she saw her son staring at her. She grabbed him and pulled him tightly to her and found the strength she needed. She pulled back and looked at her son.

"Are you alright?" she asked hastily looking him over for any signs of injury.

"Yes," he whispered and looked at the orc that Saeran sat astride. She pulled him to her once more and kissed his head.

"I want you to climb up in the wagon and stay there till I say it is safe, yes?" He continued to stare at the orc. "Evon, do you understand? Get in the wagon and stay there until I tell you to come out." He looked at her and nodded. She picked him up and carried him to their wagon. She then went back to the center of the circle to retrieve her crossbow and walked out into the night. She saw Cormick talking to someone and was able to ascertain that there were no fatalities on their part, which gave Saeran great relief. As she continued to look around she saw the horses had scattered and saw the pony Maglor had given her at the edge of the clearing by the tree line. She sheathed her knife and made her way over to it. It skittered some at first but she was able to grab the halter and calm it with some soothing words. She leaned her head against the mare's neck and gathered her wits again.  _Everyone is alive,_ she thought. _Everyone is alive and we are safe._

"Saeran?"

She opened her eyes at the sound of her name. The voice was familiar and she turned to see who was calling her. A young man approached her from the dark.

"Saeran?" he said again. She looked at him and realized he was not of Man but an elf.

"Saeran, it is you!" Elrond quickly walked over to her. "What . . . how? Elros!" he called. Saeran stared at the young elf who stared back at her in disbelief. When Elros loped up she started to laugh. Elrond grabbed Saeran and began to look at the cut to her head, nimble fingers searching through her hair for further injury.

"Saeran is Evon alright?" Elrond asked gently. "Where is Evon?" Still laughing, Saeran nodded yes and pointed to the wagon where Evon sat.

"Saeran!" Elros cried. "What are you doing out here? You are hurt! Where is Evon? Maedhros? Maedhros!"

"Elros stay with her. I am going to get wrappings." Elrond dashed off into the dark. As Saeran watched Elrond leave she saw another figure emerge from the shadows. Elrond stopped to say something to the figure and pointing back at them before he continued on his way. The figure turned toward where Saeran and Elros stood and paused only for a moment before it began to make its way over. But she knew who it was before he ever got close for the air became electric and a familiar heat coursed through her person. Elros stared at her dumbfounded.

"Saeran," Elros said in bewilderment, "are you wearing my old breeches?"

Saeran just laughed and laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

_She was still laughing when he walked up. She wiped the tears off of her face. Was she laughing so hard she was crying or was she crying so hard it sounded like laughing? She did not know anymore, so she simply wiped the tears from her face. She leaned back against the little mare and stared at the two elves before her. She could feel him again. The bond pulsed with his presence and she drank it in as one starved. He was too close to hide now, and she was too close to ignore. She looked him directly in the eye. The light of a thousand stars and the dark fire blazed wildly back at her, a fire that had so willingly consumed her so many times before, swallowing her whole. She did not flinch. She steeled herself, closing herself off._

Consume that _, she thought bitterly._

 

* * *

 

 

Maedhros knelt down and gestured behind him. Elrond and Elros silently came up and knelt down beside him. Without speaking he pointed to the markings on the ground, the peredhil studied them and then together pointed in the direction that the tracks led off to. Maedhros nodded and the peredhil continued to track the pack of orcs through the trees. It was not a large pack and Maedhros felt secure in allowing the twins to track and assist in taking them down. He went back to where Thannor and the rest of his men waited. He leaped on to Ectheldoth and they followed as the peredhil tracked. Elrond and Elros had learned much since joining Maedhros, and he felt no small amount of pride at their accomplishments. Plus, it was the justification he needed to remain out here, hiding in the wild.

The men were growing restless. They would remain as long as he did of course; they had already followed him through so much this small band that remained and would not desert him now simply because they desired a bath. But it was not fair to force upon them unnecessary discomfort because of his cowardice. After this pack was exterminated he would allow them to return to the keep. The bond had been quiet lately. He had not felt anything for several days, which was quite a difference considering the intense range of emotions that battered at his resolve for many nights. She felt herself scorned and used for another's entertainment. That had angered him. Many times he found himself outside of the keep trying to get to her before he would realize what he was doing. One night he had even seen her as she knelt weeping, her anger lashing out at him, striking at his very being. Still he stayed away. It had to be done. She would understand in time. Macalaurë called him a melodramatic fool and Maedhros could not help but think that most times he was right.

Maedhros stopped Ectheldoth abruptly. Something was not right and he could not place what it was. It was familiar though and troubling. Thannor pulled his horse up next to Maedhros and looked to him, waiting. A sudden apprehension came over Maedhros and lightly he reached out and barely touched the bond. Awareness flooded his senses. Fear and terror and the rapid rhythm of her heart startled him and he made a soft hissing sound as he sucked the air in through his teeth. Thannor opened his mouth to speak but the peredhil came running up at that moment.

"We found another set of tracks!" Elros said breathlessly.

"They are following a caravan headed for the naugrim road," said Elrond as he came up behind them. "They will catch them easily."

The sense of dread that had been following Maedhros intensified; he waited for the peredhil to mount the horses and spurred into the night.

Once they came across the caravan tracks the chase became easier for there were wagons and people on foot. The tracks were leading towards the river where they more than likely made camp. He cursed to himself. Did not Macalaurë tell them to make the road in haste? Why did they  _always_  stop? But that was not the main source of his consternation. The bond, that had been so silent for so long, that had been nothing more than a dull throbbing in the back of his mind, felt as if it were pounding against his consciousness. He spurred Ectheldoth on harder and drew his sword. The whispery cold shing of steel sliding on steel rang out behind him and he knew his men were doing the same. They heard the battle first. The familiar sound of metal striking metal, the cries of the men and the screams of the women and children, the high pitched squeals of orcs. And as they rode up on them Maedhros could see that the men were holding them off but some were still able to get past the barricade of wagons that protected their women and children. An arrow whizzed past Maedhros's head from somewhere behind him and struck its target right as they joined the fray. It was over with relatively quickly. The orcs scattered almost immediately but his men hunted them down one by one and dragged their carcasses back to the clearing to burn.

Maedhros found the leader of the group and sent Thannor over to him as he assessed the damage. There did not appear to be any fatalities on their end but there were wounded. Maedhros found himself looking at every face that went past him. He began to feel somewhat calm again, chiding himself for his panic. It was his desire to see her that was all, she is not here. He turned to go back to where Thannor stood. Elros's voice rang out in the dark.

"Maedhros? Maedhros!"

Maedhros froze. He slowly turned around to see Elros and Elrond across the clearing near the tree line. They were standing over someone. From here the figure could have been easily mistaken for a young boy but Maedhros knew better. He began to walk towards the twins when Elrond broke away and rushed towards him.

"Saeran is over there wounded and Evon is in one of the wagons," he said in disbelief. "I am going to get dressings for her wounds and fetch Evon." He ran off into the dark towards the wagons. Maedhros turned back to where Elros stood. He hesitated a moment before he went over. Anger mixed with relief rushed around inside of him causing him to almost feel ill. She stood holding on to a little mare, a crossbow in one hand and a knife strapped to her waist. She wore boy's breeches and tunic and her left arm was bleeding and there was a cut to her head. She stood there looking at him, laughing. He stopped in front of her bloody hysterical visage.

He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to hold her, to run away from her. He could not make up his mind at the moment so all of them would do. Seeing her again was more painful than he anticipated. He wanted to beg her forgiveness and knew he would never deserve it. She stood tall in front of him, her head high. His little warrior. It did not take him touching the bond to know that this was going to be difficult. So he looked away and said nothing. Elrond returned just then with Evon and handed him to Elros so he could tend to her wounds. While her attention was turned to what Elrond was doing Maedhros looked at her and reached out through the bond and felt . . . she felt . . . hidden. She was there, she would always be there but he could not make out her thoughts or what she was feeling. She had shut him out.

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. Maedhros took as step back as if he had been struck. She shook off Elrond and stood up.

"I am fine." She looked at Elrond and saw the look of surprise on his face and immediately felt regret. "Forgive me Elrond, but I am fine." She reached out her hand for Evon to take. He looked to Elros and hesitated. "Evon," she said. He took his mother's hand and they headed to the wagons. Maedhros watched her leave and then he turned and walked over to Thannor. Elrond and Elros looked at each other faces unreadable.

"No fatalities, but two of Cormick's men and one of the women have sustained injuries that will require more extensive care," Thannor reported to Maedhros. "All of the children and elders are fine, minor bruises only."

"Prepare an escort for those who can carry on to the naugrim's road. We will load the injured into wagons to take back to the keep. They can receive the care they need there till they can travel. They will be assisted to the road as well when ready." Maedhros turned to Cormick. "Is this acceptable to you?" Cormick nodded.

"Thank you m'lord. I would ask if I may travel with the wounded. My wife is one."

"As you wish." He turned to Thannor. "Prepare to move. We return to the keep."

Saeran led the little mare to her wagon and began to go about hitching her back up. Maedhros walked over to her.

"What do you think you are doing." It was not a question.

Saeran said nothing and simply continued hitching up her horse.

"This wagon is returning to the keep."

"This wagon will continue on to the dwarf road–"

"It is needed to carry wounded."

"- and then on to the road through the mountains–"

"You are hurt."

"- and from there on to Lindon."

"You are returning to the keep as well."

" _You do not get to tell me what to do_!" Saeran's words cut through the night like a knife and she emphasized it with her finger poking into his chest. Everyone within earshot came to a halt and stared in shock at this woman with the audacity speak in such a manner to the lord who had just saved them. Elrond and Elros appeared on the peripheral and waited.

Maedhros considered her, his face the very picture of elven serenity. But Saeran knew better, and she smiled when she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. The air between them seemed as if it would ignite at any moment. Saeran slowly and belligerently turned her back to him and continued on with her task.

Maedhros's head tilted slightly as he looked at her and then, moving so quickly that one would question that he even moved at all, he reached out and snatched her arm and began dragging her away from the wagon.

Saeran cried out in protest and immediately put up a fight, struggling with him. If it hindered Maedhros in any way, no one could tell. He simply pulled her over to his horse and tossed her up onto Ectheldoth like so much baggage and then leapt up behind her. She kicked and squirmed and almost managed to wriggle her way down as he was mounting but he simply grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and sat her back down in front of him. He placed his hand over her mouth to muffle her protests and restrained her against him as he spoke.

"Elros, Elrond," he called, "take Evon to ride with you and come with me. Thannor, clear enough space within  _that_  wagon to carry wounded back to the keep. Nidthor, you, Indóion, and Aethonnen will accompany those who are carrying on to the road. The rest of you will assist Thannor." Saeran's muffled cries became increasingly agitated and she punched and kicked at him, causing Ectheldoth to do a little sidestep and look back curiously at the commotion. She bit down on Maedhros's hand but if it bothered him he showed nothing. He pulled her head back so he could whisper in her ear.

"You are hurt and are returning with me whether you wish it or not. You will stop this foolishness or so help me by the light, I will bind your hands and feet and carry you like chattel to the keep. Do you understand?"

Saeran stopped struggling and nodded yes and Maedhros slowly removed his hand. He noted the look she gave him was deadly and he pulled her close and held her tightly to him in case she should make another attempt at escape. But in his heart he knew that he did not hold her so close just to make sure she did not try to get away.

Saeran for her part remained still but held herself stiffly against him. But as they rode on at a slow pace for the wagons, Vása rose up in the eastern sky and she began to grow weary. Eventually she relaxed into him and began to drift asleep. For a brief moment Maedhros was able to almost cradle her as her head began to loll back on his shoulder, her face against his neck, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. But then she would wake and snap back to attention, refusing the intimacy of willing contact only to succumb to exhaustion yet again. But the closer they came to the keep the more she remained awake and as they approached the main gate, she had started to struggle again. Horns announced their arrival and they rode up to the main entrance.

Saeran had intensified her struggling to get away from him now so he decided to give her what she wished. He removed his hand from her and held his arm up in the air. Saeran, who was still attempting to get away from him did not anticipate this and fell unceremoniously to the ground in a heap. Saeran gasped and looked up at Maedhros who stared down at her briefly before turning away and guiding Ectheldoth towards the stables. And while his face had been carefully neutral, in that brief glance she had seen the amusement in his eyes and her composure snapped. He had professed his love and then spurned her for no reason. He had possessed her for his own selfish needs and then abandoned her. And when she finally found the resolve to leave this place and survive on her own; he appears out of nowhere to drag her back and then  _laughs_  at her. She was tired, she was sore, and now thanks to him she was back where she started.

Saeran felt the white heat of rage burn its way up from her gut to her eyes and let out a roar of indignation. As she jumped to her feet she grabbed at a clump of dirt and threw it at Maedhros, hitting him square in the back. Ectheldoth skittered slightly and Maedhros pulled him to a stop, not moving. His sitting there with his back to her only infuriated her even more and she grabbed yet another handful and threw it, hitting him in the back yet again. It was not till she reached down to grab more that she picked up on the smell and realized it was not dirt she was throwing. All movement in the courtyard stopped, Elros and Elrond watched the exchange with wide eyes and even Thannor who had been riding alongside Maedhros looked shocked, mouth agape. Maedhros turned his head slightly so he could look over his shoulder at her. The look he gave her spoke volumes.

_Don't you dare._

Saeran heard his voice in her head. In her rage she had stopped concentrating on keeping him out and now the bond left her open to him. She felt his anger, his annoyance, and his hurt and she almost cried out in triumph. She squared herself against him and held her head up high, chin out in defiance. She looked down at the warm smelly handful. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

_Don't . . ._

She gave him a smug look and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

_You . . ._

She dug into the ground with her feet and pulled her arm back . . .

_Dare . . ._

. . . and threw, striking the center of the great silver star embroidered on his back like a bullseye. That was all it took. Maedhros leapt off his horse and strode over to where she stood. She started to reach down to get another handful to throw but he was on her before she could. She swung around to slap him but he caught her hand and in one swift movement slung her up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Saeran kicked and screamed, but Maedhros kept walking undeterred straight to the bath houses, kicked the doors open and stormed inside.

Maedhros burst into the bath house and made for the women's side. He stomped in, sending two young women scurrying for cover, and dumped Saeran into the water. She lurched up gasping for air and tried to get out only to be stopped by Maedhros and shoved back into the water. She thrashed in the water trying to strike but she was no match.

"Stop," he growled, trying to catch her flailing arms. She tried to crawl away from him and he grabbed her by her collar and pulled her back.

"I said," he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her hard against him, " _STOP_!"

Maedhros's voice bounced off the walls of the bath house and echoed throughout the room. But the silence that followed was far more deafening. They stood in the water, soaking wet and dripping, glaring at each other. Saeran's wet clothes clung to her body and her hair hung in long wet tendrils in her face. Maedhros was painfully aware of how her body felt against his, how close his face was to hers and he looked away.

"Stop acting like a child and clean yourself off. You are hurt and this is not helping. I will send Hestil and you  _will_  let her help you."

He relaxed his grip but she did not move. Instead, she reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look at her. She stared angrily into his eyes, hurt and confusion swirled through the bond.

"You left me," she whispered

"I did what was best. I had to . . . to save you, to keep you safe."

Saeran grabbed another fistful of air and looked in his eyes. It was what he did she realized, perhaps what he has always done. His entire life one sacrifice after another, always seeking to do what was right only to be met with tragedy and betrayal. She pulled him to her and kissed him hard upon the mouth. She pulled back and stared into him again.

"It was not your decision to make." She pushed away from him and waded to the edge of the pool and began to disrobe. "Go," she called over her shoulder. "I need to bathe." Maedhros watched for a moment as she began to undress and then turned and stepped out of the pool and left the bath house for the keep.

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor watched as his brother stormed into the bath house with a screaming and kicking Saeran hoisted over his shoulder. Maglor thought that he should intervene but Maedhros did just get his arse handed to him by an atani woman and decided that perhaps it would be better if they just worked it out between the two of them. Maglor felt something grab hold of his leg and saw Evon staring up at him. The peredhil followed close behind. Elrond entered the main hall and took a seat near the fire while Elros walked up to Maglor and embraced him. Maglor took Elros by the shoulders and held him at arm's length, giving him a concerned look. Elros smiled and shook his head.

"Does it still surprise you that I might actually be happy to see you from time to time?"

Maglor raised an eyebrow at him and bent down to scoop up Evon. The three of them walked over to where Elrond sat and took a seat themselves. Maglor was about to open his mouth to speak when the main doors to the hall suddenly burst open. Maedhros strode through main hall. He was frightening, fell, and soaking wet. The dark expression on his face was countered only by the sloshing sound of water in his boots as he stomped by without speaking a word. The four of them did not move or speak as Maedhros trudged by, leaving a trail of water in his wake. Maglor waited till his brother splashed his way out of the room and turned back to the twins.

"So," he said as he pulled Evon back onto his lap. "Tell me everything."

 

* * *

 

 

_Maglor looked at Maedhros and rolled his eyes._

" _They are at it again," he said. "And on this day of all days too."_

_Maedhros looked in the room at his brothers. Ambarussa sat in the corner, their complete disinterest in the scene playing out before them rivaled only by the lack of interest they had in coming to Himring in the first place. Curufinwë leaned against the desk in the corner smirking as Tyelkormo preened around Carnistir who stood staring out the window._

" _If you are not careful you will begin to pick up some of their more swarthy habits, you are already starting to smell like them."_

_This elicited laughter from Curufinwë who never ceased to enjoy tormenting Carnistir. They were mocking him about the atani again. He had assisted a tribe of Men on the outskirts of his lands near the mountains once and was impressed with what he saw. Impressed enough to talk to his brothers of the valor of men, and since he rarely talked at all without yelling Maedhros chose to listen. Carnistir had begun spending more and more time in those mountains with them, finding them worthy of teaching, saying that they were stubborn but eager to learn. Curufinwë however scoffed at this, finding them beneath his notice. And since Tyelkormo for whatever reason tended to follow his younger brother's lead, he taunted him now as well. Maedhros sighed. They did not have time for this. Carnistir's betrothal ceremony was tonight and soon Findekáno would be here along with his new born son. Káno has a son. The thought seemed so strange to him and was the words were bitter on his tongue. He shook it away; he had to deal with this first._

" _Tell me brother, what are the women like? Are they capable of eating from a table or do they writhe in squalor, their children attached to their backs like animals. I would imagine they smell worse –"_

_Maedhros was about to put a stop to Tyelkormo's prattling when Carnistir spun around suddenly, his hand gripping his brother's coat near his throat._

" _Tell me Turko," he said coldly glancing around the room, "where is Huan?"_

_Well that did it. Tyelkormo turned six different shades of red and lunged at his brother. Maedhros stepped in and separated the two, yanking Tyelkormo back by his collar. Maglor went to Carnistir but he had already stopped struggling once Maedhros had Tyelkormo. Curufinwë glared daggers at his brother's while Ambarussa continued to idle in the corner._

" _That is enough. We do not have time for this. The ceremony is tonight and guests are arriving. We must –"_

" _Ceremony?!" Tyelkormo spat as he threw off Maedhros's hand. "I will not be attending any ceremony much less greeting guests. Especially those who belonging to a house of an unlawful king and his mewling grandson, equally undeserving of the throne!"_

" _I take it that you will not be joining us then."_

" _You can take it however you wish Nelyo," he hissed, "is that not how you normally like it?"_

" _Turko!" exclaimed Maglor and moved to intercept his brother but Maedhros stayed him with a raise of is hand. Maedhros said nothing, only stood over his brother. Tyelkormo remained defiant for his part at first but Maedhros's eyes overpowered his brothers bluster and pierced him. Maedhros could see the shame and regret in his brother's eyes and Tyelkormo broke his gaze first and stormed out of the room. Maglor turned to Curufinwë._

" _I suppose it is safe to assume that you will be riding his coattails where ever he goes yes?" Curufinwë said nothing as he looked at Maglor disdainfully and stalked out of the room. "That is what I thought." Maglor looked at Carnistir who had turned back to the window and then turned to Ambarussa._

" _Come along you two and try to contain yourselves." Ambarussa languidly rose from where they sat and followed Maglor out of the room._

_Maedhros turned and walked over to the window and stood next to Carnistir. They fought so much lately. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë's behavior of late had been a great cause of concern for him especially. Tonight was not just about Carnistir's betrothal. Maedhros had called together a meeting of many of the houses of the Noldor and representatives from the dwarves and the tribes of Men to set forth a proposition that would call for the unification of all the races of Beleriand for it to be successful. But Tyelkormo and Curufinwë's reckless actions had threatened everything he had worked for. There were times when he was unsure of who they even were anymore. Even Telperinquar had forsaken his father and gone to Orodreth's people. What had happened? Maedhros sighed and looked at Carnistir. He was wearing all black as usual. He would not break with that habit even for his betrothal ceremony. He was about to leave when Carnistir spoke._

" _They underestimate them. They cannot see past their own wounded pride to the potential that is there. They cannot see that they were beaten by a worthier opponent."_

" _Is your faith in the second born truly so strong?" Carnistir turned and looked at Maedhros, his eyes lit with the intensity of his words._

" _There is strength there Maitimo. Yes there is weakness but there is also strength and beauty. It is raw and uncut but there is beauty. Not restrained and repressed like many of our own people. When they feel they act upon it with passion and fire. Perhaps it is because their lives are so fleeting that they live so frantically and love so furiously." His eyes took on a faraway look and he spoke almost to himself, lost in some memory. "Strength and beauty and a love so true it would have rivaled any of the Eldar."_

_Maedhros looked at his brother and heard the loss in his voice as he spoke. There was a time when Maedhros could look into his brother's eyes and see her there, a light in in his brother's eyes that interweaved with his own. He could see their bond. His voice had taken on a strange synergic quality as well and Maedhros had always been surprised that Maglor's keen ears had never picked up on it. But Maedhros always knew, he who had raised six younger brothers. He had answered their cries when they woke from nightmares in the dark and soothed their hurts from skinned knees and a variety of other injuries. He knew them well. And he knew Carnistir had been happy then, at least as happy as Carnistir could be anyway. But now his voice was empty and his eyes now possessing but a single mournful light. Gently he took his brother by the shoulders and turned him around to face him. Carnistir stiffened when Maedhros touched him but allowed him to turn him around. Carnistir said nothing, only looked at Maedhros, waiting. Maedhros reached up and straightened his brother's collar where it had become undone from his altercation with Tyelkormo._

" _You know, Findaráto said much of the same once." Maedhros glanced at his brother who stared at him in that haughty imperious way of his. "It is said that Aikánaro even loved an atani woman, though he never took her to wife."_

_Carnistir sniffed in disdain at that. "Aikánaro was a coward, nothing more."_

_Maedhros looked at him curiously as he arranged his brother's overcoat. "He was a coward because he did not take her to wife?"_

" _He was a coward because he was too frightened to embrace that which he knew he would lose. He was protecting himself from the pain of her eventual end."_

_Maedhros took a step back and looked at his brother. "You are too harsh Carnistir. It is the fate of our kindreds to be sundered. That bliss is fleeting for such is the Gift of Man."_

" _If it is the Gift of Man to face inevitable death, then it is the doom of the Eldar to face life eternal, woefully holding on to the memories of what once was. I for one will welcome death when it finds me for it will be a release from the emptiness of my loss."_

" _Is that such a bad thing, to want to avoid pain?"_

" _Life is pain Nelyo. You of all of us should know this. The bliss of ecstasy balanced on a thin line between pleasure and pain. You cannot embrace one without the other. And in these times they are almost one and the same. Aikanaro chose never know what it is to love or to be loved to avoid the inevitability of losing it, but if you do not fear losing it then what is it worth? I would not turn from it. I would not scorn something so pure and inviolable. Even though the pain will follow me till the end of days I reveled in the moment, even if only for a little while."_

" _Then it is fortunate that you have found Iphandis," said Maedhros and Carnistir started and the sound of that name, as if reminded of some chore that must get done._

" _Iphandis, yes," he said absentmindedly and turned to leave, "it is fortunate."_

" _Moryo," Maedhros called out suddenly and Carnistir looked back, his haughty demeanor returned, "you were happy then yes? In the mountains, during that time, were you happy?"_

_The question must have not been what his brother was expecting because he blinked in surprise when Maedhros asked. But then his face softened and his gaze seemed to go inward, recalling some memory that had been tucked away. And for the first time in what Maedhros thought had been years and for the last time that Maedhros would ever be able to remember, Carnistir smiled._

" _Yes Russandol. I was."_

* * *

~oOo~

Saeran sat in the bath house pool till her fingers shriveled and her teeth began to chatter. She was getting sore now. The adrenaline of the nights and day's events was wearing off and an ache was all over her person and her arm had begun to throb. A giant, angry purple and blue bruise had formed where the orc's mace had partially connected with her arm. Things were starting to become painful. And yet still she stayed. She stayed till Hestil peeked her head around the corner and then entered carrying a bundle of clothes and dressings. Saeran looked up at Hestil and felt her eyes start to well up. Hestil set down the bundle she carried and rushed to Saeran and embraced her where she sat.

"Oh lissë hína, shhhh," she soothed, "it is alright. You will be alright."

She held Searan, rocking her back and forth while she sobbed. Eventually Hestil pulled Saeran up out of the tub and helped her dress. As they walked over to the house of healing Saeran noticed how many in the courtyard avoided looking at her. She began to feel embarrassed about her behavior and dreaded returning to the keep. She imagined that word would spread quickly about her unseemly behavior.

Hestil seated Saeran by the fire and laid a blanket on her lap. She gave Saeran another once over before resuming her work. The injured from last night's raid were already set up inside. Cormick sat near his wife who looked to be sleeping peacefully. Saeran recognized her as the woman who was awake with Saeran when the orcs first came. One of the injured men sat up with his arm in a splint while the other lay still. Janneth and Kady bustled around the room. The combination of the warmth of the fire and the balms that Hestil had given her suddenly made her feel very tired. Her eyes grew heavy and try as she might, she could not keep them open. Her mind flitted in and out of consciousness, the occasional awareness of movement around her and soft voices whispering barely audible enough for her to hear. At one point she felt the sensation of being lifted and carried. She dreamt of strong arms cradling her, she dreamt she felt the rhythmic pulse of a heart beat as she buried her face into his neck. She knew who it was, even in her dreams she always knew him. She brought her hand up around his neck and felt the pulse quicken. She floated now, drifting weightless to the steady drumbeat of the pulse that fluttered lightly against her cheek. She wished she could be the source, the reason for that heartbeat. 

_You are,_ the voice whispered in her mind and she was surrounded by stars and silver light embraced her.

She floated down and felt herself become grounded again, something soft and feather light brushed across the lids of her eyes and lingered a moment on her lips. The light that had enveloped her began to fade and she wanted to cry out as it dimmed. She did not want it to go and pleaded for its return, grasping at nothing. The light blazed forth and surrounded her, and she prayed it would not leave her again. 

_Never again,_ the voice caressed her back to calm.  _Never again._  

She opened her arms and let the light take her into the restfulness of deep sleep.

When Saeran woke, the sun was at its zenith. The pains she had felt yesterday had reduced itself to the dull ache of muscles that did not wished to be used. She sent her arms out into a slow stretch and could tell by the way her body brushed against the sheets she was in a bed and not one of the cots of the healing house. She was not in the house of healing at all, she was in the keep. More specifically she was in her room at the keep. She lay there and took in the familiar surroundings and had to wonder of the events of the last few days were not but a dream. But when she sat up, her head throbbed in protest and she saw the dressings on her arm and knew.

The memories flooded her mind and she found herself becoming somewhat horrified at her behavior. Had she truly thrown and handful of . . . well, she was not really horrified at her behavior per say. When one thought about it, he had it coming. But she was horrified that she had behaved that way in front of her child and a courtyard of people. She was embarrassed by their public display like some petty lover's spat. 

_Lover's spat_ , she thought.  _Are we even lovers anymore_?

Tentatively she reached out for the bond felt the surge of its presence. It almost overwhelmed her as it flooded her senses. It coursed through her and she wrapped her arms around herself in some vain attempt to hold it. Gone was the murky dull awareness that had kept him hidden from her. The bond pulsed and his white silvery light filled everything. But as much as she relished the feeling she still remained on defensive. Who knew if he would leave again. She knew he was close and rose from the bed for her dressing robe. As she pushed her arms through the sleeves she heard a voice from the attached courtyard. She walked to the small outer room that connected her room to the courtyard and looked outside as she pulled her hair out from under her robe.

Maglor lay on his side on the ground propped up on an elbow as Evon leaned back against him. They were facing Elros who also sat on the ground as they played a game of Castles. A silly game that seemed to only consist of knocking down the other's structure. Evon was looking at Maglor who casually pointed to a piece that Evon then gleefully pushed down. Elros threw his arms in the air and made accusations of cheating and fixed games as Evon laughed even harder. In the back of the courtyard on a bench sat Elrond and Maedhros, both hunched over a chess set, elbows on knees and chins in hand as they contemplated the board. Saeran walked to the doorway and looked at the scene in the courtyard and for a brief moment was able to shut out the horrors of the world around them. There was no war, no monsters in the night, there was only this and it was perfect.

Maedhros looked up from the chess board briefly and stared at Saeran as she stood in the doorway. She was rested and her color had returned. Her hair was unbound and fell across her shoulders and the familiar heat he always felt when in her presence came to him. She had called to out for him last as she slipped in and out of consciousness and he thought his heart would leap from his chest with joy. He had brought her to her room and felt her as she desperately reached for him through the bond and so he stayed, his hope rekindled that he could make amends. But now that she was awake he felt her defenses raise and he knew there was still more he would have to do. Elrond had looked up from the chess board and looked over to what held Maedhros's gaze. He looked back at the game and moved his queen across the board, setting it down with a click that brought Maedhros's attention back to the game. Elrond leaned back and looked at Maedhros.

"Check," he said with a small smile of satisfaction. "It is your move."

Maedhros raised an eyebrow at the peredhil, his own little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Indeed," he said and reached for his king.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Maglor looked at his brother with concern. Maedhros sat slumped in the chair in Maglor's room. He was not sleeping, he was not eating.  _He looks like shit_ , Maglor thought.

"Maitimo, really, how long will you continue like this?"

Maedhros dropped his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "As long as I am allowed to I suppose Macalaurë."

"And what if she should decide that she still wants to leave? Then what?" Maedhros said nothing, simply continued to stare at the ceiling. "What if she decides to stay? Have you thought about that?"

"I think about that every day."

"She is second-born Maitimo."

"Yes Macalaurë."

"She will grow old . . ."

"I know Macalaurë."

". . . and she will die while you remain."

"Yes Macalaurë," Maedhros hissed as his head snapped up to look at his brother. "Do you believe that I do not know this? That I had not thought of this, questioning the wisdom of such actions before? Do not mistake me for some foolish boy who ruts up against anything with warmth. I have weighed the risk and know I am found wanting. I have lost everyone I have ever loved, doomed everything I have ever touched, and failed at everything I have tried to do. Everyone who has ever followed me has fallen simply because they –"

Maedhros stopped suddenly and leaned forward, turning away from Maglor and looking behind him towards the door. Maglor walked up to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention back to him.

"I know what you have lost Nelyo," he said as he looked in his brother's eyes. "I know the emptiness you carry. And I know more than anyone the comfort a bond of love can bring. But I also know the pain of that loss as well. And whether she stays or if she leaves, you will still be parted from her for death is her destiny, and the Oath is ours."

Maedhros looked at his brother and Maglor pained to see him so. Dark circles formed beneath his eyes for he was sick and weary of war and promises of revenge, as was Maglor.

"Then I will foreswear my Oath and doom myself to the void for, as long as she lives I know I can have peace in my heart. For as long as she will have me I will have hope and know happiness." And Maedhros smiled despondently as the memory of something Moryo had said to him once came to his mind, " _even if only for a little while."_

But Maglor still looked sadly at Maedhros.

 

* * *

 

 

Saeran had kept to herself for the past several days, leaving her rooms to go to Dannil's hill with Evon or to take her son for walks around the Keep. But aside from making sure her child was fed and cared for she did not speak to anyone. She just did not feel like it. She was tired. She felt drained. The events of the past week had taken a toll and she just wanted to be left alone. She was unsure of what to do anymore.

Cormick and his people were recovering and were making plans to depart soon and she must decide what she was going to do. Maedhros had let her be for the most part. But he also had not left the Keep since they had returned. They skirted around each other. He seemed to sense that she did not know what she wanted anymore and kept his distance. He had been able to walk away so easily, deciding what was best for all involved. What  _was_  best for all involved? She did not know if she could answer that question. She was so tired. Should she run? Should she stay? And what about Evon? She could not keep dragging her son out of this place only to get pulled back in, continually upending his surroundings. It was not fair to him as he had no choice. She found herself pondering the situation she had placed herself in. Bound for life to an elven lord. What had she been thinking? What had he been thinking? Why would he do this with her? What did the future hold for them if she were to stay? More mood swings would most likely be on the agenda. And it was not as if she were getting any younger. What will happen once she becomes old and wretched as he remains young and beautiful? Saeran dreaded the thought of wasting away, unable to look at him as she withered.

Saeran walked through the keep in the evenings always ending up in the main hall looking at the great tapestries that adorned the walls. Images of elves and monsters seemed to be the predominant theme but there were some that were not. Further to the back she found tapestries that held strange images that she found fascinating and frightening.

One had the image of several elves around a body of water and standing before a bright figure that held his hand out to them. On another was a picture of two beautiful trees and several glowing figures that stood around them, including the one who held his hand out on the previous tapestry. Also on that tapestry was the image of a great white city and what she assumed was the king with his queen and their son but as Saeran's eyes traveled down to the next picture, the queen lay upon the ground and the king knelt next to her weeping. The next tapestry seemed to show images of the king and his son and what she assumed was the son's family. It did not take her long to realize that this must be the infamous Fëanor. His image was surrounded by is many great deeds but everything was centered around him as he held three bright stars.

The silmarils. Saeran squinted hard at the image, desperately trying to see if she could find what made them so desirable causing anyone who came in contact with them to lose all reason. She sighed and turned to the next tapestry, the same feeling of dread coming over her whenever her gaze fell upon it. The two beautiful trees from earlier where nothing more that dried husks and the king lay crumpled on the ground in a heap. The glowing figures that had stood around the trees in previous pictures all wept, but the son stood tall and held his sword up in defiance at the dark shadowy figure that loomed over them. That was the image that frightened her most. It hung over everything, omnipresent and perverse. Its sickly yellow eyes stared menacingly and it wore a crown of three glowing orbs and monsters of fire raged behind it. Saeran gasped and her hand shot involuntarily to her neck as she realized where she had seen that figure before. Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened.

"Morgoth."

Saeran jumped in the air with a yelp and spun around to see Elrond staring at her wide eyed. He leaned back slightly and raised his hands up as if to say he meant no harm. Saeran slapped him hard on the arm.

"What is  _wrong_ with you?!" she said giving him a most exacerbated look. "Make some noise when you walk up behind a person, damn you elves!" She held her hand to her head and took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. Elrond just looked at her. His face was expressionless but his eyes were lit up with mirth. Saeran glared at him and struggled not to start laughing.

"Stop it! It is not funny!" she cried raising her hand to hit him again. Elrond took a step back.

"No, it is not!"

"You scared the wits out of me!"

"I am sorry."

"I could have died!"

Elrond tilted his head and gave her a slightly incredulous look. "That might be going a bit far don't you think?"

"Shut up," she said and turned back to the tapestry, still looking at him from the corner of her eye as she shook her head. Elrond smiled widely and turned to the tapestry as well.

"Morgoth," he said again, "the darkening of Valinor, and the Oath of Fëanor. That is what you are looking at." Saeran looked back up at the beast on the tapestry. She looked at all of the images that seemed to cower at its gaze and one the one that stood tall and the seven beneath him. In the center of the seven stood one with his back to her, his red hair in contrast to the darkness around him.

"It has never ceased to amaze me how fathers can be so cruel to their sons and the things sons will do to earn that father's love."

"What Fëanor did was for the love of his father and I would not say Finwë was cruel."

"I thought what he did was for the love of those jewels."

"Yes and no. It can never be denied that Fëanor was not obsessed with the silmaril for they were a part of him and their like could never be duplicated not even by Fëanor himself. But the love he had for his father was second to none."

"Had his father not been killed do you believe Fëanor would have come to these lands?"

Elrond thought about this for a moment before he spoke. "That is hard to say for it is said that Fëanor was proud and despised Morgoth. I doubt he would have allowed such an insult without retribution. But I imagine that there is the possibility that the approach would have been different had Finwë lived for he was one of the last who Fëanor would bend to. Of course the history of this land would also have been quite different. The actions of Fëanor, for good or ill, have affected us all."

Saeran looked at the figure on the tapestry as Elrond spoke.  _For good or ill_ , she thought. She turned back to Elrond and gave him a questioning look. "How do you know all this?"

Elrond smiled. "I read." Saeran laughed.

"It seems like a sad topic for late night reading." But Elrond just kept smiling and shrugged.

"In memory is our great talent. The eldar love the world for we are bound to the life of these lands. Our long lives preserve the remembrance of ages before the living memory of mortal men, for it is vital if our kindreds are to grow. But memory also carries a burden of sorrow, and that gives poignancy to the stories of elves and men."

Saeran shook her head in disbelief and reminded herself that he was only sixteen.

"Saeran, as much as I would like to talk to you about the history of the eldar, there is something else I must discuss with you." Saeran looked at Elrond because his tone had become serious. "It is about Evon."

Saeran's eyes widened and she grabbed his arm. "What about Evon?" Elrond started at her reaction and realized how he had spoke.

"No, no, nothing is wrong!" he said holding his hands up again to calm her down. "I just wish to ask you a question!" Saeran let out the breath she had been holding and smacked him on the arm again.

"Really Elrond," Saeran said as she rubbed her temples, "we have to work on you conversation skills." She sighed and looked at him again. "Ask."

"Saeran," he paused as if looking for the rights words so as not to scare her again. "As you know, Elros and I are getting older and shall be leaving to make our way soon." Saeran looked at him.

"You're sixteen," she said.

"Yes," he answered. She looked at him again and shook her head.

"When are you planning on leaving?" she asked.

"Well, that has not been decided yet," he paused and looked at her pointedly, "because of Evon."

Saeran blinked. "Evon?"

"Yes, you see, when we leave . . . we would like for Evon to come with us." Saeran looked at Elrond as if he had sprouted another head.

"He's five."

"I know."

"When were you planning on leaving?" she asked again.

"If you were to give him permission to accompany us, it would be when he turns fifteen. From what I understand, that is the age that many young atani men are allowed to squire. Elros and I would very much like your permission for him to join us."

Saeran looked at the floor and covered her mouth as if she were in thought but in truth, she was trying not to laugh. He was so sincere in his request and she did not want him to think she was mocking him. But she could not help but be amused. Evon was five! They were only sixteen! He was so serious.

"Well, of course ultimately it will be up to Evon but," she paused and looked at Elrond, "that is still some time away Elrond. I feel that there is no rush to decide. Besides, who knows if we will even still be here when he is fifteen."

Elrond said nothing. He only looked at her in that peculiar way of his, his face unreadable and his eyes far off.

"Time has a way of moving faster than you think Saeran and as for your leaving, well . . . just promise me you will consider it." He suddenly seemed to snap back to attention as he looked at her. "I would also like to make some changes to his lessons, if that is alright?" Saeran smiled.  _Back to books again_ , she thought.

"Whatever you feel is best. He has already learned so much in yours and your brother's presence." She meant that. Elrond had to be one of the most well-read young men she had ever known and when she told him as much he surprised her with his response.

"Actually," he said, "that honor should go to Maedhros. He was a Master of Lore you know, before all," he gestured at the tapestries, "all this." Saeran blinked at that and looked at the red headed figure on the tapestry. "Almost all of the existing histories and records of the Noldor were written by either Maedhros or his father. Did you know –"

Saeran laid a hand on his shoulder. If she did not stop him he would go on all night and there were still things she must do. "Elrond," she said. He stopped and looked at her curiously but then a look of realization came across his face and he smiled slowly.

"I am doing it again yes?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Is Evon already to bed?"

"Yes, Elros is with him. Would you like to tell him good night?"

"I would. Would you like to escort me?" she asked.

"I would." When he grinned at her, he was the exact image of his brother.

They walked down the corridor to the twins rooms. Elros was in his usual spot upon his bed looking out of the window to the stars. He was always looking the heavens that one. Evon was already in his bed asleep. She walked over to where he lay and knelt down next to him to give him a kiss and brushed his hair out of his face.

"Did Elrond speak to you?" asked Elros from across the room still looking out the window. Saeran continued to run her fingers through Evon's hair.

"Yes he did. Although I still believe it is a little early to be making plans such as these." Elros shrugged.

"He is getting older Saeran. It will be here sooner than you think."

"Since when have you taken such an interest in his future?"

Elros looked at her and smiled. "I have always looked to the future Saeran. It is Elrond who has always held on to the past." Elrond sniffed at this.

"We have already had this discussion. She is still unsure if they will even remain at the keep," said Elrond as he opened a large book. "Leave her be."

Elros considered her for a moment upon hearing this. But then he shrugged and looked back out the window. "It matters not. If we must come to you, so be it. The request still stands."

"I do not want to leave."

All three heads turned to look at the small figure that lay behind Saeran. Evon looked up from where he lay at his mother, eyes wide and bright in the dim room.

"Go back to sleep love, now is not the time for this." She smiled at her son but he continued to stare at her, his face becoming obstinate and his voice peevish.

" _I do not want to leave_." He said it much louder this time and Elrond made a  _tsk_  noise with his tongue and Elros gave him a stern look.

"Mind yourself child. You are speaking to your mother."

Evon flinched at the tone of Elros's voice but said nothing. He rolled over and pulled his cover up over his head. Saeran sat there for a moment before she leaned down to give Evon a kiss through the covers over him. She slowly stood up, bid the twins good night and left the room.

Saeran walked down the corridor from the twins rooms. It did not surprise her, his show of defiance. It was unfair of her to continue to uproot him and place him in danger. She should be thinking of what was best for her son. Unfortunately, she was unsure of how to do this when she did not know what was best for her.

Saeran walked past a set of doors and heard voices from behind them. One of the voices she recognized right away. Maedhros was speaking to his brother. She could not understand what they were saying as they spoke in that musical language of theirs but she could tell from the emotion that was coming off of Maedhros that it was intense. There was no anger in his voice but frustration tinged with anguish came through to her and she struggled not to enter the room and go to him. Maedhros suddenly stopped talking and awareness flooded her senses. He knew she was there. He knew she was listening. She stifled a gasp and stepped back away from the door and ran down the hall.

Shame and embarrassment heated her face and she did not stop till reached the doors to her room. Only when she opened the doors she looked around in confusion for it was not her room she was in. It was his. She stood there for a moment and looked around. The accommodations in his room were always sparse. A desk, a bed, a wardrobe and a chest were the extent of the furnishings aside from the two chairs that sat in front of the fireplace. The only striking feature was that one wall was completely covered with book shelves and books and parchments lined every inch of them. The wall suddenly took on a whole new meaning with Elrond's revelation about Maedhros.

Saeran walked up to the bookshelf and carefully pulled one of the ornately leather-bound books from the shelf knocking down a few rolls of parchment in the process. She set it down on the adjacent desk and opened it with a creak of stiff leather and paper. She looked down at the print and pursed her lips in dismay. It was written in some strange flowing hand that she had no idea how to read. The book could have been upside down for all she knew. She turned it around just to make sure. Nope. Still could not read it.

She looked at the pages and noticed that there was handwriting in the margins. Symbols had been crossed out and replaced with other ones. The handwriting was just as flowing and lyrical as the print. She closed the book and slid it back into its place on the shelf and bent down to pick up the parchment. As she did one particular roll caught her attention. It was thicker than the others and she slowly untied the binding and rolled it out flat. Upon opening it she realized it was a sketch book and began flipping through the pages.

There were sketches of animals and landscapes and several of children of various ages. The renderings were layered and detailed and seemed to almost move on the page. The one constant in almost all of the drawings was a woman. Saeran found her to be quite beautiful and every illustration portrayed her in the most loving of ways. In one she stood looking fearlessly across a great precipice, in another she was sleeping, her head resting on another's shoulder. In the next she was nude and heavy with child as she laughed while wading in water. Saeran turned the page to see her sitting with a baby to her breast, her eyes gazing lovingly down at the precious bundle in her arms. On the following page the woman lay on her back in a suggestive way and her eyes held a promise of passion that made Saeran smile and blush for she noticed how this drawing was unfinished and did not wonder as to why. She continued to flip through and wondered who she was, for whoever she was, she was obviously revered. Saeran sighed and closed the sketch book and rolled it back up, refastening the ties. She turned to place it back on the book shelf and upon looking up, froze.

Maedhros was standing silently in the doorway watching her.

He stood with his head tilted slightly as he studied her intently. Why did she not feel it when he entered? She cursed the inconsistency of her awareness of the bond they shared. She did not understand why one moment his presence blazed forth and the next it was a muddled mystery revealing nothing. How was he able to hide himself and why did he continue to do so. They both stood there staring at each other and Saeran became frustrated at the lack of her awareness. 

_Stop hiding_  she thought angrily.

A sudden rush of heat coursed through her body and her eyes went wide and her face flushed as it became very clear what he was feeling. Maedhros showed nothing though. He simply stepped completely into the room and closed the door behind him and continued to stare at her, waiting. Her heart began to pound and her head became confused. All of the things she was going to say, the speeches she had planned were gone from her mind and all she could do was look at him, too scared to move or she would give herself away. Maedhros walked slowly to where she stood and gently took the rolled up sketch book from her hands and placed it back on the shelf and turned to face her. She looked up into his face and thought she may cry out in despair. His face was drawn and dark bruises circled his eyes from the lack of respite. His expression betrayed nothing but she looked in his eyes, the fires within flickered forlornly and she thought she may weep. She brought her hands to his face and brushed the dark skin under is eyes with her thumbs. He closed his eyes at her touch and leaned into her hands. She brushed his hair out of his face as she had done with Evon earlier and tucked the red locks behind his ear. She ran her fingers along is jaw and down the line of his neck, stopping to rest on his chest and over his heart. His hand came up and took hers and he looked at her as she moved her face closer to his.

At first their lips just lay lightly against the other, taking in the touch that had not been felt for some time, barely breathing. But when her lips parted slightly against his, he wrapped his arm hesitantly around her waist and brought a shaking hand up to her face as he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. The kiss was slow at first as they savored the taste and feel of the other again. But when she put her arms around his neck and pressed against him, he kissed her more fervently. And when she pulled herself up harder against him, he was hesitant no more. He pushed her up against the wall and clothes were being torn off and discarded furiously. His mouth moved over her in a desperate frenzied need to cover every part of her body. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he gasped pulling her away from the wall and they fell on to the bed in a tangle, limbs entwined around the other.

They lay there after the throes of their passion were spent. Maedhros lay atop of Saeran, his head resting on her chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist while she lay on her back, one hand gripping a fistful of his hair as the other clutched his back. Both of them panting heavily in an attempt to catch their breath and holding desperately onto the other as if afraid they might leave.

Saeran stared up at the ceiling and knew. She knew it was too late for either of them now. For good or ill, her fate was interminably linked to his.

 

* * *

 

 

_They pushed the horses as hard as they would go._

_The light of Laurelin was waning and Telperion was just starting to wake. It made no matter to them. They pushed on through the Calacirya and towards the woods of Oromë. They feared nothing as they ran on for they were young and blessed and had no reason to believe in the ills that lay beyond their lands for what other lands could there be? None as perfect as this._

_They were princes of the greatest of royal houses, they were the first born, and in this moment in time they were free. Free from the monotonous daily droning of lessons and etiquette. Free from the stress and pressure of the animosity of rival fathers. They were free to be young men, flush with youth and longing for great adventures._

_Maitimo reigned in his steed and Findekáno slowed beside him. Their laughter bounced off the walls of the high mountain pass as Maitimo leapt off his horse and ran to where they would set up the encampment with Findekáno close on his heels. He ran into the clearing and collapsed and Findekáno fell with him both breathless from laughter and exertion. They lay on their backs and looked to the sky, the last of Laurelin faded as the cool white touch of Telperion dominated. Maitimo stared at the stars that began to twinkle into life above and wondered if there could ever be a moment as perfect as this. He closed his eyes and listened to the horses scampering about the outskirts of the clearing and the rustling of the grass bending in the wind. Crickets began chirping in a chorus of sound, swelling to crescendo as Laurelin faded completely away and Telperion came into full glory. Maitimo was almost lost in the song when he felt something brush against his lips. It was soft and sweet and filled Maitimo with longing._

_A longing he quickly set aside._

" _Káno," Maitimo said gently admonishing. Findekáno sat up and drew himself away quickly._

" _Forgive me," he said._

"We have spoken of this _."_

" _Forgive me. I do not understand what is wrong with me." He turned away, tears of shame hot in his eyes._

" _There is nothing wrong with you. We are young. We think we feel something we do not."_

" _You keep telling me that and yet it does not stop."_

" _I am hard to resist," Maitimo said with a smile in an attempt to lighten the mood_

" _No Maitimo, no," Káno said. He turned back to him now, his eyes were desperate and imploring, the pain in them tangible. "No jokes, no laughter this time. I must know why. Why do you continue to accompany me knowing what you do . . . how I feel? The truth Maitimo please . . . why?"_

_Maitimo looked at his cousin a moment, for the first time in a long time unsure of what to do. What should he do?  Does he speak the truth of his feelings?  Throw caution to the wind and act upon instincts?  Expose his heart only to be taunted with an eternity of what cannot be? Because I love you, he wants to scream. Because I have always loved you._

_In the end he did what he always did. He carefully wrapped the truth in a pretty little lie._

" _Because you are my most cherished cousin and brother and I love you."_

_Findekáno flinched slightly as if he had been struck but pulled himself together quickly._

_"Yes of course," he said absently, the desperate need in his eyes slowly draining away to forlorn emptiness. "Cherished cousin and brother, of course. You are older and wiser. It is proper for me to listen to your counsel. I am a child and acting a fool. Forgive me Maitimo. Do not let me ruin the night. We will set up our tents and then in the morn on to the hunt."_

_Maitimo watched him as he walked away; fake smile upon his face, forced joviality in is step. He ignored the tightness in his chest and told himself that this was right. It was what must be done. He was older after all and therefore must act wiser. Káno was still a child in many ways and regardless of how he may think he feels he must be responsible. He is eldest son of the High Prince Fëanáro, eldest grandson to the High King Finwë. It was his duty to do right by those who looked up to him. It is wrong to feel what he does. Just as it is wrong to go against the wishes and expectations of his father, if that is even possible._

_In the end, it is a small sacrifice for they are both young after all, and naïve in many ways. Their whole life is still ahead of them and who knows what the future might bring._

_Yes this is right, he thought, it is more important to always do what is right._

_And with that he turned away from his most cherished cousin and brother and ignored the feel of his heart breaking._

 

* * *

 

He was dreaming again. His eyes fluttering lightly at whatever hazy visions danced through his unconscious.

Saeran held her breath and very carefully removed herself from under his arm. She did not dare wake him, not this time. Slowly, she inched herself to the corner of the bed cautious and controlled so as not to make and unnecessary movement that would disturb him in any way. She kept herself away from their bond as well, not wanting to feel anything that might compel her to wake him.

His hand twitched slightly but his breathing remained steady and slow. Once she made it to the far corner of the bed she pulled her knees up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and watched him as he slept. The night was dark outside and no light shown in through the windows and yet his body seemed to reflect some inner luminescence making him capable of vividness even in the dark of the room. His hair spilled like blood over the bed, it was dark and rich and his scent still filled her senses.

She looked upon his sleeping form. Scars snaked across his back marring the perfection of his skin. They ran across his arms and legs, some taking on circle like patterns, as if he had been bitten or chewed in places along his body. She winced as she looked at them and wondered how anyone could live through such a thing. Some thirty years of torture he had endured. What kind of life force can one have to survive such a thing, what kind of strength to live through something so horrible? How strong their spirits were, these elves. To have lived through what he had lived through, there must be something more. Surely his gods did not allow him to survive just to further his torment. His life force was too intense to be so easily snuffed out

He was of the earth, forged from the fires of another and descendent of one of the first to wake in these lands. At times when she touched him his skin burned so hot she would wince from the heat and yet unable to pull herself away, willing to endure it for just one more moment near him. Sometimes she thought she may go blind when she would stare into the searing white of his light when it would engulf her and still she could not turn away. And so, recklessly she flew into the sun that was his being. She wondered how long could she continue? There is only so long one can play with fire without getting burned. Only so long one can stare into the sun before going blind. She knew the danger, the risk she took, and still she stayed. And she hated herself for it. For while he was eternal, living forever young and beautiful, cold and fey through the ages, she was only fleeting, grasping along the edges of his long life in a desperate attempt to be remembered. How she wished she could remain young and bound to him forever, never to grow old or waste away. She could save him from his curse. She can prevent the doom that had been handed down so unfairly. She could change his fate . . . couldn't she?

A rustle of the covers in front of her pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see two silver grey eyes studying her in the dark.

Maedhros watched her through the curtain of his hair as she stared out the window lost in her thoughts. She was always thinking about something that one. How she felt inadequate in his presence. How she did not think she was worthy of his attention. Confused as to why he even gave his attention to her. She was uncertain of their future and torturing herself over her mortality. He often thought about telling her she thought too much but decided against it. He did not feel like getting pelted with horse droppings again.

He had dreamed of Káno again. He had dreamed of Káno but this time did not wake up writhing in pain, his arm throbbing mercilessly. She was not Káno. He was gone and Maedhros prayed he found peace in the halls of Mandos. But that was the past and for too long Maedhros has held on to it. For too long he had dogged himself with memories of regret. She was his present now and he would bathe himself in her light. If she could not see how beautiful she was in his eyes then he would make her see. If she could not believe that he will stay with her when she is long for this world and weary with age then he would prove to her he will never leave. The thought of her departing before him was painful but he would endure it, although it was a heavy price to pay. He would not think of that now. His entire existence has been about sacrifice, but tonight, well tonight was about her. He pushed his hair away from his face and rolled over onto his back so he could see her fully. She did not move, only turned her head towards him.

He sat up and looked at her. They sat there for several moments, studying each other, not speaking until finally he held his hand out to her and she crawled back over to him. He leaned back against the headboard as she sat astride him and they continued to stare. She placed her fingers along his face and traced them across is lips as if marking every feature to memory. He reached up, placing his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. He kissed her slow and deep and savored the feel of her. He leaned up and away from the headboard and sat up straight to pull her body against him, looking up at her as she sat atop him, her legs moving around his waist, her arms around his neck. Gone was the frenzied rush of earlier, they moved slowly now, deliberately. The softness of her skin pressed against his chest and the warmth of her body pulled him in. His sudden ragged intake of breath betrayed his control and he struggled to contain himself as he became lost in the dark depths of her eyes, so unlike the cold grey of his own. She held him tighter and he buried his face into her neck, feeling her pulse quicken as his mouth moved against it. He felt her shudder as he pressed his mouth against the hollow of her throat and he let out a soft moan as his hand held her hip, their bodies moving in rhythm. She turned her face down towards him and he kissed her hungrily as her fëa coursed through him and their movement quickened.

Damn the consequences. This he would not turn away. Damn the cost. This he would not lose. He let go of the past and grasped desperately at the future.

 

* * *

 

 

Maglor sat at the table listening to Elrond and Elros discuss the war in the north and the involvement of the elves of Valinor and the forces of Men and Dwarves. Elrond felt that the Valar had to intervene and was disappointed that they refused their aid as long as they did, as they were the only ones who could defeat Morgoth. Elros felt that the forces of Arda combined would have been enough had they remained true and all fought for a one true cause.

Evon sat next to Maglor, eyes and ears riveted to the conversation, darting back and forth between them as they debated. Maglor tapped him lightly on the shoulder and Evon turned to Maglor to see him gesture at the plate of food before him. Evon looked at his food and absentmindedly picked up a piece of fruit and stuck it in his mouth, is full attention back on the conversation in front of him.

Maglor smiled and shook his head. The boy looked at the peredhil with nothing short of the worship a young sibling has for older ones. He followed them as if he was their shadow and the peredhil encouraged it. Elrond, always pleased to have an ever enraptured audience for his lectures and Elros, always thrilled to have a minion for his mischief and sport. They doted on Evon as they should. The younger brother neither was able to have, a family member that they did not come by through tragedy. It saddened Maglor to imagine what his existence will be like once they left for he knew that once they were gone from the Keep they would never return.

He watched the peredhil as they conversed. Elrond was calmly making his points and counterpoints, unflustered and maddeningly benign, while Elros was colorfully rebutting and challenging, animated and enthusiastically vibrant. As if to emphasize this point Elros threw his hands in the air in a most exasperated manner.

"Unbelieveable. You should have more faith in the peoples of these lands Elrond. Their hearts are true to their purpose once found."

"It is not that I lack faith in their hearts Elros," Elrond replied. "They have proven more than once their hearts can be true, the problem is that they find purpose in both good and ill."

"That is the way of this world brother and the gift that has been given to us. We have a freedom of choice."

"Which is why the coming of the Valar and Maiar was necessary for they are the only creatures that are wholly devoted for the purpose of the One and only they can truly with stand the temptations of the evils of the Enemy."

"Ah," said Elros eyes bright and moving to the edge of his seat, "but Morgoth himself was of the Valar and yet wholly devoted to evil and has several of the Maiar who follow him devoted to his cause as well." Elrond simply shook his head lackadaisically and leaned down to pick up the harp at his feet.

"Morgoth rebelled against the One from the beginning, sewing his seed of discord in the very first song." Elrond plucked at one of the stings and twisted a tuning pin. "The Maiar who followed him were some of the first created, babes if you will, weak and easily corrupted and tainted by the dissonance of the song."

Elros narrowed his eyes. "But you admit that they were corrupted and found purpose in the ills of the world."

"I admit they were misled by one they trusted and believed in, following what they thought was right for them at the time for they were not created specifically for independent thought, only to assist those wiser than they." Elros threw his arms in the air and flung himself back against his seat. Elrond looked at his brother unconcernedly and plucked a string from the harp. "For a Maiar to turn away from their purpose and seek to dominate well that would go against all that they are, all they were created to be. They would be stripped of their true purpose and become empty shells, constantly seeking to fill the hollowness of their existence with foul deeds."

"You . . . you . . . you are the most . . . frustrating, the most . . . infuriating. You could argue blood from a stone!"

"Why would I do that when I have you?"  _Twang_  went the harp.

"I may have to strike you about the face," said Elros flatly. Elrond merely gave him a half smile and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Am I wicked?"

All three heads at the table turned to look at the small boy who spoke.

"No of course not," said Elros looking at Evon with curiosity and a small amount of concern. "What makes you say that?"

"If some of my people were . . . then what would stop me from doing ill deeds? Would that not make me wicked too?"

"Do you want to be wicked?" Elrond asked.

"No."

"Then you shall not."

"But what if I don't mean too? What if I thought I was doing the right thing but it was really wrong?" Elros brows furrowed and he shook his head. Elrond opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he saw Maglor reach over to Evon and place his hand under his chin, turning the child's face towards him.

"Then you would seek to make amends," Maglor said gently, "and right the wrongs you have done."

"Is it that easy?"

"No," Maglor smiled, "but you would do it any way and seek forgiveness. To make amends."

"To make amends," the twins echoed softly in unison. They were all silent for a brief moment, and then Maglor sighed and clapped his hands together.

"Come, I have allowed you to tarry here long enough. You shall head to the study and start your languages. Maedhros will be leading your sparring lessons." This elicited a groan from Elros.

"The bruises from the last lesson are just starting to disappear!"

"Well," said Evon, "maybe you should keep your feet on the ground." Elrond burst out with laughter and even Maglor chuckled. Elros let out a loud gasp of shock and looked at Evon with wide-eyed surprise.

"Not you too!" he shouted and grabbed the boy, spinning him so that he held Evon upside down as he squealed with laughter. Elros carried him down out of the room that way and Evon's laughter could be heard echoing down the hall. Elrond stood up with the harp still in his hands.

"Will we be having any music today?" he asked as he gathered up his things. Maglor looked at him.

"You enjoy those lessons do you?" Maglor asked, lightly teasing. Elrond was extremely fond of his music and quite the proficient. Maglor was very proud of his talent.

"As much as I can with this," he scowled at the wooden harp in his hands. It was of his own making and he never quite liked it. "It is not nearly as fine as yours."

Maglor smiled and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "This," Maglor pointed at the harp in Elrond's hand, "is not the instrument that makes the music special Elrond." Elrond gave him a little half smile.

"I know," he said, "but a nicer one would certainly help." Maglor laughed and turned him around and led him towards the hall.

"Go on with you. They will do nothing productive till you arrive."

Maglor watched Elrond walk away, Evon's laughter still bouncing down the hall. Maglor turned and walked back to the table and sat down. Saeran had not joined them this morning. He did not recall seeing Maedhros either. Maglor rubbed at his temples and hoped that they would be adults this time. The moping around the Keep the two of them had been doing had become quite tiresome to him. He had tried to talk to Maedhros about the behavior and instead was met with obstinate preadolescent pouting. He supposed that as long as feces were not being flung through the air then some progress was made. Maglor's mouth pressed into a thin line as he tried to suppress a smile at the memory. Her aim was quite good actually. Maglor sighed and closed his eyes and prayed to Eru she would have a long life. He heard movement at the table and looked up to see Senwë standing before him. Maglor stood up.

"Forgive me Senwë, I will clear this." Maglor began to remove items from the table but Senwë waved him off. One of his sons, Vinion perhaps, came up behind him with a bundle and handed it to his father and began to assist with clearing the table. Sinwë turned and handed the bundle to Maglor.

"For the lord Maedhros's lady." Maglor kept his expression carfully neutral and inclined his head as he took the bundle from the older man. "She likes the fresh fruit. I collected these just this morn."

"Thank you Senwë, I am sure she will appreciate it."

"Let our little sister know we are looking forward to her visits again." And then he turned and left, his son trailing behind him. Maglor watched them go somewhat in a state of shock. Senwë has been with them manning the kitchens since before Maglor was born perhaps even before his father was born for his father had spoken of memories of Senwë sneaking treats to him when he was a child. He had served and loved his father dearly, vowing to remain true to the House of Fëanáro till the end. And in all that time this was perhaps the longest conversation he had ever heard Senwë have.  _The lord Maedhros's lady,_ thought Maglor wryly.  _Looks as if the secret is out._  At that moment Thannor entered the hall at the main entrance.

"Maglor," he called, "there are more refugees come through." Thannor paused for a moment before he spoke again. "Easterlings."

Maglor's eyes narrowed and his visage cold. "Do they have women and children or wounded with them?"

"No. All men."

"Send them on their way. We have nothing for them." Thannor nodded and left. Maglor took the bundle Senwë gave him and headed down the corridor.

 

* * *

 

Maedhros lay on his side in the bed, Saeran's back pressed up against his stomach, his arms around her and their legs tangled. She slept peacefully, free of dreams and he was content to stay here and hold her. He buried his face in her hair. The sun was climbing higher but he had no intention of moving. Not yet. He felt the rise and fall of her chest and the beat of her heart against him; he felt how their lights intermingled contentedly through the bond they shared. The conversation from last night ran through his memory.

" _You will stay then."_

" _Yes . . . will you?"_

" _Yes."_

" _I will grow old," she said solemnly._

" _I already am," he answered her nonplussed._

_She grabbed his face and looked him fixedly in the eye. "I will waste away Maedhros, while you stay young, I will fade."_

" _Then I shall too, for if you leave I will not be long for this world."_

" _It does not sound like such a happy ending to me . . . how will you even be able to look at me?"_

" _How could I not? Enough of this, let us enjoy what we will now for these are the moments that are most precious to me."_

" _Dwell no more among the dead and tend to the living?"_

" _Wise words from a wise man no doubt."_

" _You are an –"_

She was unable to finish for he had kissed her then. For him, the discussion was over.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Elrond winced as he watched Elros land hard on his back.

Always he challenged Maedhros and always the same result; landing hard on the ground and nothing but bruises the length of his body to show for his effort. He never gave up though. Elrond knew Elros would keep trying till he succeeded in tagging the great elf although he could also see the emotion was reaching an apex for his brother. He could see the tears of frustration in Elros's eyes. Elrond went to his brother and reached down to help him up but Elros angrily swatted his hand away, tossing his sword to the side.

Maedhros turned from the conversation he was having with Maglor and considered Elros for a moment before he walked over and squatted down in front of him. Elrond watched as Maedhros gently but firmly grabbed the side of Elros's head and pulled till their foreheads barely touched. He then whispered something to Elros that even Elrond's keen ears could not hear. Elrond watched his brother's expression change from one of anger to petulance to a reluctant acceptance. Maedhros simply looked at Elros as he shrugged sullenly at first and then finally looked Maedhros in the eye and nodded. Maedhros gave a hint of a smile and then playfully pushed the side of Elros's head as he rose up and walked over to retrieve the discarded practice sword and then walked back over to Elros and extended the sword to him hilt first. Elros gave Maedhros a little half frown before he sighed and begrudgingly took the sword and stood up.

The two brothers never ceased to fascinate Elrond. They were tragic in their beauty, capable of so much but unable to do more than a little, meant for so much more and now left with nothing but blood on their hands. He had tried to hate them at first. He tried to blame them for driving his mother into the sea. But in the end he knew that she had made that choice herself. And although he understood her reasoning . . . somewhat, he could not at times help but feel a little bitterness at it. But he did not hold on to it as Elros did. Elrond feared that his brother may never forgive her for leaving them.

" _She abandoned us Elrond."_

" _Has it never occurred to you that she may have thought us already dead? Do you not remember her brothers and their fate? Is it so unreasonable to assume that she believed that to have happened to us as well?"_

" _But she did not know, nor did she find out. She chose the jewel Elrond; she chose a damn jewel over the well-being of her children."_

Try as he might, Elrond could not get his brother to understand their mother's sacrifice. The jewel. The silmaril. Unlike his brother, he could not hate the silmaril, for if they had never been created then the odds of he and his brother ever coming into being decreased significantly. In truth the odds become nonexistent. But they were created and here they are, in the care of the last two of the house that swore a terrible Oath to reclaim them.

He often wondered what the brother's lives would have been like had they never come here or what they had been like before the silmarils and the weight of the Oath upon them. Maglor undoubtedly despised this life although he existed in it. He seemed so out of place at times with his gentle manners and soft speech. And yet when he took up the sword he moved with the grace of thousands of years of experience behind him.

Elrond was unsure at times who was deadlier. Maedhros was strong beyond belief and frightening to behold but Maglor was just as strong and seemed capable of far more cunning. Elrond imagined that when they were together on the battle field they must have been terrifying. Together they were able to hold Himring when everything else around them fell. Elrond always wondered if Himring had actually fallen during the Nírnaeth Arnoediad or if Maedhros had just abandoned it in his grief over the loss of Fingon and his forces. It was said he was never the same after and that it was Maglor who pulled him from his despair. Despair, regret and madness. They were said to be his constant companions now and Elrond knew there was some truth in this. Without the singular focus to drive him Maedhros was almost lost. And now with his hope of defeating Morgoth dashed, the only focus to drive him was the silmarils and even that he tries to turn away from. It seemed to Elrond that Maglor was the balance for Maedhros and yet Maedhros was also the balance for Maglor as well. They needed each other for they were bound not only in a terrible Oath taken in desire for revenge but also in grief, love and loyalty. While he would never allow them to know, the fear that Elrond had felt towards them in his youth had turned to pity.

The brothers had taught them much during their time here. Elrond knew that when he and Elros finally made their way from the Keep they would be armed with knowledge and skills that would rival many of those older than they. Maglor was quite proud of their accomplishments and even Maedhros seemed impressed at times. An affection of sorts had developed between all them. Elrond found that he felt something akin to love towards the brothers and he knew when the end finally came, he would not tolerate ill words to be spoken about them in his presence.

"Elrond!"

Elrond turned and smiled when he saw Evon and caught him up in an embrace as the boy ran to him, his mother walking up a short distance behind.

"Hello little alassë!" he laughed as Evon jumped onto him. "You are early!"

"I wanted to practice with the targets," he held the bow and quiver up to Elrond. "Can you come with me? Where is Elros?"

At that moment, Elrond heard a thud from behind him and turned back towards the sparring ring to see Elros back on the ground and Maedhros standing over him. Maglor stood off to the side and shook his head.

"You cannot hesitate Elros."

"Yes, thank you. I am aware," Elros replied peevishly. Maglor smiled.

"Are you?"

"Between being constantly thrown on the ground and your incessant commentary it is difficult to know otherwise." Elros was quite disgruntled as he kicked at the dirt before taking Maedhros's hand, pulling himself up and brushing himself off. Maglor looked at Elros with amused concern.

"I think we are vexing him," he said and turned to Maedhros. "He seems vexed."

"Mmmm," replied Maedhros. Maglor brought a finger to his lips in thought.

"Hmmm indeed. Perhaps," he looked questioningly at Maedhros, "a brief respite is in order?"

Maedhros gave Maglor a sideways glance and droll smile, shrugged nonchalantly and walked over to where Saeran stood talking to Thannor who had walked up with a new foal. Maglor put an arm around Elros and playfully pushed him towards where Elrond stood with Evon and then walked over to join Maedhros.

Elros walked tenderly up to Elrond, massaging his shoulder as he stretched his arm over his head.

"Are you going to live?" he asked his brother wryly. Elros gave his brother a sour look.

"I do not see you jumping up to volunteer," he said morosely and turned to Evon and brightened a bit. "Well look who has joined us, what do you have?"

Evon grinned. "Target practice!"

"Well, as long as I am not the target any longer, I am in." Elros playfully shoved at Evon. "Go set up." Evon ran across the sparring ring to where the bales of hay they used for the targets and began to drag one out for practice.

"He is getting big," said Elros. "How old now?"

"Seven."

Elros shook his head at the revelation. "Has it been that long?"

"Yes. Perhaps even longer." Elrond sighed. "I fear that he will not be ready for when we leave. We may have to send for him." Elros looked at his brother.

"Are you planning on going somewhere anytime soon?"

"We are not meant to stay here Elros," Elrond said matter-of-factly. "The time for us to find our way is coming sooner that we think, you know this to be true. Letters have already been sent."

"By whom?"

"Maglor sent them several days ago." Elros blinked and seemed momentarily taken aback at this revelation.

"I had no idea he was so eager to be rid of us." Elrond pursed his lips and looked at his brother.

"Of course he is not. He did so at my request." Elros stood there silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed just slightly.

"And to whom were these letters of intent sent to?"

"Gil-Galad of course, also to Círdan. They are our kin after all."

"So are they," said Elros.

Elrond look at his brother who was leaning against the fence and staring steadily at him.

"I realize that this is an uncomfortable subject. They are the only thing close to family we have known and I have developed attachments as well. But the truth of the matter is there is not much more for them to teach us Elros. They have imparted a wealth of knowledge to us and we must use what we know now for the betterment of this land and its peoples. The time is soon for us to join the rest of this world."

Elros turned so that he full faced his brother and his eyes held a very dark look.

"Thank you Elrond for lecturing me on things I am already well aware of as usual. And since you seem to be so astute at noticing the obvious I feel that I must point out that you appear to have missed one very important fact. I am no longer a child. The next time you feel the need to make such important decisions that impact our lives I would appreciate it if you would include me as well."

And with that Elros stalked off across the sparring circle and grabbed a practice sword.

"Are we going to get started again anytime soon?" he shouted to no one in particular. Maedhros and Maglor both turned around with surprised expressions on their faces. Maglor looked at Maedhros who inclined his head as if to say  _if he wants to._  Thannor led the new colt away while Saeran said her farewells with a lingering look to Maedhros before she headed off to the grave of her son. Maedhros for his part did not stop watching her till she was out of sight. Maglor clapped his hands in preparation.

"Well," he said, "shall I take a round with you this time?"

"No," said Elros who raised his practice sword so that it pointed directly at Elrond. "Him."

The air in the courtyard seemed to become very still and Maglor scrutinized Elros before he turned to Elrond. Without a word, Elrond walked over to the weapons stand where he took a sword and stood before his brother and returned his cold stare. Maglor looked over at Maedhros who watched the two peredhil intently. Maglor called out to Evon.

"To the fence alassë, over by Maedhros." He turned to the twins who were grim mirror images of each other and then walked over to where Maedhros stood with Evon. Maglor gave Maedhros a look of mixed concern and curiosity. Maedhros simply raised his eyebrows slightly in equal curiosity although not nearly as concerned.

"When you are ready," Maedhros said.

The two young men took an en guard position and stared down at each other for only moment before launching into an attack. Elros rained down a flurry of blows upon his brother who parried and then attacked with equal fervor. Back and forth they went, Elrond's grace pitted against Elros's brute force, each giving and taking ground equally for they were evenly matched. Maglors brow furrowed even deeper at the ferocity of the duel and moved to step in but stopped when Maedhros laid a hand on his shoulder, halting him midstep. Attack, attack, attack, it would go till they came to an impass, swords locked as they strained against the other and then pushed away to start again. It was at such an impass that Elrond in an attempt to break away brought an elbow across Elros's face causing him to stagger back slightly. Elros looked at his brother and snapped. He lunged at his brother, his fist striking Elrond and the two of them fell to the ground grappling and punching wildly. Maedhros and Maglor immediately moved in to separate the two as the twins hurled insults at each other.

" _Self-righteous prick!"_

" _Obstinate little shit!"_

Evon's mouth dropped open as Maedhros grabbed Elros while Maglor took hold of Elrond and they wrested the two away from each other while the twins continued to hurl insults at each other, still struggling to fight. Maedhros called out to Maglor and jerked his head towards the water trough next to the sparring ring and began to drag Elros in that direction as Maglor followed. Upon reaching it Maedhros grabbed Elros by the hair and dunked him and Maglor did the same. After a few brief seconds the released the twins and the young men both popped back up, arms flailing, sputtering and gasping for breath.

"What has gotten in to the two of you?" asked Maglor, his shocked gaze going from one to the other.

"As if you don't know!" spat Elros breathlessly, wiping water from his face and eyes. Maglor gave Elros a look of complete bewilderment.

"I assure you I do not. Why don't you calm down and tell me."

"Pay him no mind Maglor," said Elrond as he shook out his arms and glowered at his brother. "Anytime he is not in the know of  _any_ of the happenings around here he becomes a petulant brat."

"Anytime?! Everytime! You make are making decisions that affect the both of us Elrond! Not just you! I deserve to know! I have a say in these things as well!"

As Maglor listened to the exchange a look of understanding flashed in his eyes and across his face and he spoke aloud to himself.

"The letters," he whispered and Elros looked at him.

"Yes the letters!" he said, still angry but somewhat calmer than before. He looked at Maglor, the hurt in his eyes obvious. "Did you not even think to come to me about it, to ask me what I thought?" Maglor shook his head and looked at Elros remorsefully.

"I am so very sorry Elros," said Maglor, his voice contrite. "I thought you knew. Forgive me."

"Bah," he said, waving Maglor away, "it is not your fault. His  _royal highness lord Elrond_  simply handed down a decree to one of his vassels."

"If you would just calm down and –" began Elrond.

"Stop telling me what to do!" yelled Elros, leaping for his brother again. Maedhros and Maglor each grabbed a twin and held them back.

" _Enough!"_ roared Maedhros and he threw Elros to the ground and Elrond shortly after him. He loomed over both peredhil, glaring down coldly. "It is time the both of you learned some self-control."

Elros and Elrond stood in the center of the practice yard, faces twisted into grimaces of pain as the sweat poured into their eyes. Both young men held a bucket of water in each hand, their arms extended out to the side at shoulder level. Any time one a bucket would start to drop below that, Thannor would rap their knuckles with a practice sword. Maedhros and Maglor both stood off to the side as they watched the two peredhil struggle, their breathing heavy and their arms shaking. Maedhros looked at his brother.

"You sent out letters?"

"Yes," said Maglor, his face full of pity as he looked at the peredhil.

"To whom, if I may ask?"

"To Gil-Galad and Círdan," said Maglor absently still watching the twins. "Elrond came to me and asked me to send out notices stating their desire to join the war. I truly thought that Elros was a part of that decision as well, truly I did." Maedhros looked back at the center of the practice yard as Thannor rapped Elrond on the knuckles.

"You should have informed Elros."

"Yes, I should have."

"You should have informed me as well."

Now it was Maglor's turn to look to Maedhros. "I did not intend for this to happen. Would grabbing practice swords make you feel better as well?"

Maedhros smirked and glanced at Maglor. "It would not be the first time one brother made a decision without the approval of the other. They will live, as will I."

"Well at least I have earned someone's forgiveness." Maglor sighed. "What about you alassë, are you mad at me as well?"

Evon thought for a moment before he spoke. "I don't think so."

"Well that is reassuring."

" _That is enough!"_  Maedhros shouted and both peredhil dropped their buckets and collapsed to the ground. Maedhros walked up to where Thannor stood and looked down at the two.

"Now, let's practice our forms shall we?" Elros groaned while Elrond tried to sit up and fell back down.

"I can't move my arms . . ." one of them cried. Thannor looked at Maedhros with a little smile as Maedhros shook his head.

"You are both ready to leave are you not? Ready to head out to war? To fight with the Eldar? You will march for days on end, carrying weapons and supplies. You will get no rest. No one will care if you are tired for they will all be tired. No one will want to hear you complaints for they will all be in pain. You will get up. You will suffer on. And you will keep your mouth shut about it for your suffering will be no different from anyone else. You will learn to trust each other for one day the other is all you may have. Now  _get up._ "

The twins slowly pulled themselves up, their arms hanging limply at their sides and made their way to the practice swords. After several attempt they were finally both able to grab one and went back to the center of the ring and stood before Maedhros and Thannor.

" _Minë_!" shouted Thannor and both twins slowly and painfully raised the swords into position.

" _Atto_!"

Maedhros looked back over his shoulder at Maglor and gave him an amused look. Maglor simply shook his head.

" _Neldë_!"

Suddenly Maedhros's snapped around and he looked off into the distance, his brows furrowed as if he saw something disturbing. Maglor looked to see what his brother was staring at but only saw trees and the horizon.

" _Canta_!"

Maedhros eyes went wide and look of shear panic and then black anger set upon his face as he roared and ran off in the direction that he had been looking. Maglor looked at Thannor in complete shock and then they both took off after his brother, the twins and Evon trying to keep up behind them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Saeran knelt down in front of the small grown over mound and began to pick some of the small white flowers that were growing to weave into a small wreath. She would not stay long for her son would be finishing his sparring practice with the twins soon and then it would be time to lunch. He would be a mess after as usual and getting him in and out of the bath house in a timely manner was a challenge. Especially since he was insisting to do things on his own. Of course he is seven now and this was normal but Saeran was having a hard time letting go. He was still a baby to her although he disagreed with this wholeheartedly and reminded her frequently that he was getting far too old for certain things. But sometimes, when the twins were not around, he would still climb up onto her lap and relax his head against her chest as they would discuss the day's events. He was exceedingly happy when she told him that they would not be leaving again. Maglor had smiled and nodded and Elros had just given her a look that said of course you aren't. After that things just went back to normal. Or as close as it could get to normal, whatever that may be. Because Saeran could not help but notice that several of the Keep's resident's behavior had changed somewhat when it came to her.

Her friends in the kitchen still were the same although two of them would usually stop what they were doing and incline their heads in acknowledgement whenever she entered. The third one, who she assumed was in charge of the kitchen would always stop and smile and sometimes make her have a cup of tea in the mornings with him. They would never really say anything; he would just pour the tea and show her some of the fruits he had collected that morning and let her have her pick. Once Maedhros had walked in as they were sitting and joined them. The two of them talked in that strange sing songy language of theirs and she just sat there until her annoyance at this had become so obvious that one had finally taken notice and made a comment that made the other laugh, much to her consternation. After they had left the kitchen she had asked Maedhros what the other had said that was so amusing and he smirked as he spoke.

"He told me I had better get out of throwing distance." Very funny.

Hestil was still very friendly but Saeran noticed that there was a difference in the way she regarded her as well. She no longer would tell Saeran what to do as much as she would ask her if she minded doing something. Saeran would not have taken notice if Hestil did not do that every time. Saeran would also catch her staring at her almost warily. Janneth and Kady stopped talking to her altogether and would sometimes stare at her wide eyed till Hestil would snap at them to get back to work. Even snooty old Goweston would acknowledge her now although she sometimes felt he was staring at her with slight disbelief. The remaining soldiers of the Keep did not seem to change their routines except that they would rise as she would enter the room. One evening she had entered the main hall and Thannor had risen to give her his seat that was next to Maedhros. She had stood there for a moment unsure of what to do, to the point that Thannor looked at Maedhros questioningly while Maedhros had simply sat there, holding his chin in such a way that his hand covered his mouth as if to hide a smile. Thannor looked relieved when she finally sat down while Maedhros never moved and simply looked at her from the corner of his eye, but the amusement there was unmistakable.

Caravans continued to come through the keep with word of the war. Strange and frightening tales were coming down from the front. Strange creatures have been unleashed by the enemy and the battles against them were so great that it was said that huge areas of land have fallen into the sea. Beasts of fire and dragons from the north had been seen. They even spoke of armies of men who had allied themselves with the dark forces and Saeran could not help but fear that they were of her old tribe. But the heroics of the army of the Valar so far had been many and still they pushed the enemy back.

But here in the Keep, the ugliness of war was just stories around a campfire. Here, Saeran was surrounded by contentment and the horrors of the world did not touch them. She could not help but notice how things had become very relaxed around the Keep lately. The patrols into the wild had become less and the Noldor who remained began joining the brothers more in the Keep in the evenings.

One night, someone had brought a pipe or flute while Maglor thumped out a pounding rhythm on a small drum. Several of the men jumped up and began to dance and Saeran found herself becoming quite popular as she was the only female in the room at the time. Elros had grabbed her first and they spun around the floor with the other elves doing some type of reel she was unfamiliar with. At some point she switched partners and was spinning with another elf (Aethonnen was it?) until she switched again and saw Elrond laughing next to her, his hand around her waist as he swept her around the floor. Saeran spun about the room till her hair came unbound flying wildly around her and tears streamed down her face from laughing so hard. When the music finally stopped she was breathless and flushed and random strands of her hair stuck to her neck from the sweat that ran down. The men in the room shouted their appreciation to Maglor and his accompanist and they conferred briefly before starting up another rousing tune that caused the men to take to their feet again. Saeran had barely sat down before Elros had come up and pulled her once more to her feet.

Every so often she would catch a glimpse of her son banging on a drum next to Maglor, or Elrond who had picked up a lute and joined in with the music. But Maedhros she could not find. She knew he was there. She always knew he was there. But he stood just out of her sight in the back of the room. Once she thought she had seen him watching her from the edge of the darkness, his eyes reflecting the light in a peculiar manner. But before she could tell, another arm linked with hers and the room was spinning again.

At some point she was able to break away and retreat to the edge of the room to catch her breath. When she felt an arm around her waist her she turned to protest but the objection on her lips was silenced by the mouth that covered hers and she very willingly allowed herself to be pulled back into the shadows. When he had finally released her from his kiss, she laughed and struggled to control her breathing, whether it was because of the dancing or his presence she did not know nor did it matter. She pressed her forehead against his and became lost in the strange light of his eyes. And when he smiled at her she felt her heart may burst. Suddenly she realized they were no longer in the main hall but in the side corridor that led to the rooms and moving rapidly away from the joviality behind them. She laughed and tried to put her feet to the ground to stop them but he held tight onto her and would not set her down.

"My son," she started to say.

"Is fine," he interurpeted. She squirmed against him to no avail and so she did the only thing she knew would stop him in his tracks. She wrapped her legs around him and nuzzled his neck. He groaned and when he came to a stop, she found herself against the wall in the corridor as he pressed against her and moved his mouth along her throat.

"Someone," she gasped, "will discover us!"

"Then stop," he muttered against her neck, "distracting me." He kissed her hard and pulled her away from the wall, almost stumbling in his haste to get down the corridor to his rooms where they danced to music of their own making.

Saeran felt her face go warm at the memory. Yes, things were becoming very relaxed around the Keep. Saeran sighed and stood up to stretch when she hear the voice behind her.

"Saeran?"

She turned to see a man step out from behind the great old tree. She looked at him curiously as she did not recognize him. The man smiled.

"Hello Saeran," he said. Saeran suddenly began to feel uneasy.

"Do I know you sir?"

"Me?" he asked with a wide eyed innocence, "No, but I am here on behalf of someone who has been looking for you for quite some time now. Finian."

Saeran's eyes went wide and the feeling of uneasiness quickly gave away to fear and she took a small step back.  _Finian_ , she thought,  _son of Phelan, brother to Ffeyrll_. The man moved slowly away from the tree, all trace of feigned innocence gone from his face.

"Where's your son Saeran."

And with that Saeran turned to run only to find herself on the ground, stunned and confused and her vision blurred. Dazed, she looked up, barely registering the fist that was coming towards her face, and then with a blinding flash of pain, everything went black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Evon stood in the clearing by the little hill that his mother enjoyed coming to so much.

She called it Dannil's hill and said that he was his older brother and that he had passed away some time ago when he was smaller. It mattered little to Evon. He could not remember him anyway. Sometimes he dreamed of when he was little and he played with another boy who was older than him. They would hide from a man who yelled and made his mother cry. But those were just dreams and his mother did not cry anymore. Not since they came here. Not since she found Maedhros.

He never understood why so many of the people that stayed outside of the keep found him so frightening. Evon thought he was kind of weak at times actually. If his mother even gave a small frown in his direction Maedhros would go all wibbly-wobbly and hover around till she smiled again.

Evon often felt that he should talk to Maedhros about that. He knew better than anyone the face she made when she was really angry, the face she make when you pushed too far and Evon had only seen her give it to Maedhros once. He could get away with lot more if he wanted before she got really mad.

Yes, he would have to point that out sometime to him. Besides, he owed him one anyway. Not many people know this but Maedhros is afraid of the dark. Evon never found him weak because of this due to the fact that he was afraid of the dark too. But he still found it fascinating that the great tall lord feared the shadows almost as much as he did.

He remembered very clearly when he had found out Maedhros's secret back when he was still very young. Back when his mother was still sick and did not get up much, back when they first came here.

_He had awoke sometime in the night, the twins were both asleep and he did not want to wake them. All he wanted was his mother. He had crept out into the dark hall and stood there for a moment mustering his courage and then be bolted down the corridor as fast as he could towards his mother's chambers. He had done that a lot at night when it was dark and the shadows waited. He thought that the faster he went the more difficult it would be for the monsters in the shadows to get him._

_And there were monsters in those shadows, no matter what they said._

_When he had finally made it to his mother's room, he had opened the door and stepped inside only to freeze in terror. There was a monster in her room. His mother lay in her bed as usual muttering incoherently at her nightmares but off to the side; standing in the doorway that led to the adjoining side room that led to the courtyard was a figure. It stood looking out at the courtyard, its huge silhouette almost blocked the entire entrance. He was terrified. And when the figure turned around to face him he found he did not feel any better for the red one stood there looking at him._

That was what he called Maedhros then as his name was quite difficult to pronounce. Maglor was the dark one and Maedhros the red one. It was easier that way.

_So anyway, the great big red one turned and looked at him in the moonlight. Evon thought about running but this was his mother's room. Of course it was Red one's house, but still they were guests and the Dark one said this was his mother's room so it was his mother's room. But still he did not move._

" _What are you doing up?"_

_The Red one's voice had startled him when he heard it. He had thought it would be as big as he was and booming off the walls. Instead it was soft and almost gentle. It surprised him, but he could not help thinking "what are_ you _doing up" right back at him, although he did not say it outloud. The Red one considered him and his eyes seemed to reflect the small amount of light in the room in a most strange way to Evon._

" _Could not sleep I suppose."_

_Evon was not sure if that had been directed at him or not, so he still said nothing._

" _Afraid of the dark."_

_Again Evon did not know if this was directed towards him so he stood there still saying nothing. The Red one just looked at Evon and nodded._

" _As am I."_

_Now this had really taken Evon by surprise and he blinked and his head tilted slightly as he looked at him. The Red one just laughed softly._

" _Does this surprise you? I suppose it would. But I am. I am afraid of the dark and I too wish I could go to my mother for comfort when the darkness comes."_

" _Where is she?" he had asked. The Red one seemed to think about this for a moment._

" _Faraway," he had said, "home." This had confused Evon somewhat. "But I found a way to scare away the shadows. Would you like to see how?"_

_This intrigued Evon to no end. Of course he wanted to know how to scare the shadows. If he could scare the shadows then the monsters cannot come. He did not say as much but he nodded yes emphatically._

_The Red one smiled and knelt down and gestured him forward. Evon stepped forth eagerly. He was hoping it was a dagger or sword. Yes, a sword would do nicely. But when he got to the Red one and looked at his hand all he saw where some rocks, four to be exact. They were pretty rocks, round and smooth but still rocks. Evon looked around to see if he had a sling nearby. Maybe they were magic rocks and you throw them at the monsters. But he did not see any sling and so he looked skeptically at the Red one, unimpressed. Red laughed again._

" _No they do not look very impressive do they. But you should never judge one's appearance for even the smallest and plainest of things may surprise you."_

_He moved slightly to the side then, allowing a sliver of moon light to hit the palm of his hands where the stones lay and suddenly, it seemed to Evon that the rocks ignited with light._

_They were magic rocks, he had thought. Magic rocks that turned into stars in the light of the moon. Evon smiled widely and the Red one smiled back. He then held his hand to Evon so that he could take one and Evon cradled the little star in his hand._

" _When the darkness comes and the fear threatens to take you, hold your jewel to the sky so that it may chase away the shadows. Always remember, evil things cannot tolerate the light."_

Evon still had his stone and would pull it out when Elrond and Elros were gone into the wild with Maglor without him. Yes, Maedhros had helped him out when he most desperately needed it so he would have to help Maedhros out too. Which is why he allowed him to spend so much time with his mother.

He looked over and watched Maedhros, Maglor and Thannor as they stood next to the tree by the little mound. They seemed to be looking for something. Whatever it is, it must be important for Maedhros seem very upset and Maglor looked very concerned as well. He saw Elros come running over with Elrond and they seemed to be speaking very animatedly with the others. They had been looking in the trees for whatever is was that was lost.

Evon was happy to see they were getting along again. He did not like it when they argued. He could not wait to be like them, to be able to do what they can do and know what they know. And they could do anything! They knew everything too! And if they were for some reason unable to answer, there was always Maglor. Maglor always had time for him. He always stopped to help him when the Elros or Elrond could not. And Evon loved to hear him sing. It was one of his most favorite things. Although, sometimes it seemed to Evon that when Maglor would sing he would suddenly become very sad and Evon would find himself hugging him as hard as he could till Maglor would smile again.

As he watched Maglor with Maedhros he wondered if he should go hug him right now. Something had them very upset and Evon was unsure of what. He wondered if he should go get his mother. That would make Maedhros happy again. Evon looked around and wondered where she was. Wasn't she supposed to be here while he practiced? And speaking of practice, when are they going to let him shoot at the targets?

Evon was growing impatient. No one was speaking to him and he did not understand what was going on, or why they were over here. All he knew was that Maedhros yelled and started running and Maglor and the others followed behind so he did too. But now they were here and it was obvious that whatever they were looking for was not so why stay? Why not shoot some targets.

Evon plopped down on the ground and let out a loud sigh and when he looked back up he saw that everyone was standing by the tree and looking at him. 

_Good_ , he thought.  _Maybe now we can have some target practice._

 

* * *

 

 

When Saeran opened her eyes she could see nothing. Her head throbbed and her vision was hazy, her eyes heavy but that is not what stopped her vision. There was a hood over her head and her hands were bound behind her back and rope also bound her feet as well. She was moving and by smell and the sounds was able to figure out she was slung over a horse, adding to her discomfort. She tried to focus and remember what had happened. She had been outside, at Dannil's hill, when something happened. Someone had spoken to her, someone had hit her.  _Finian._ The name hissed through her mind. Fferyll's younger brother. The man had said he was looking for her before . . . before what?

" _Where's your son Saeran_."

A cold fear shot through her body and she held very still and listened for a sign of her son. The voices she heard were low and hushed and hard to discern although the accents she knew immediately. There were of her old tribe. And if not, they were from the surround villages. She pulled on her hands gently, testing the ropes that held her and found there was no slack at all. She froze when she realized they had stopped and heard.

"We can't stop now. If they are following –"

"No one is followin'! Is already dark an' we are ready for a rest!"

"It's a three day ride before we get there Isak!

"Fine. We will stop tonight but in the morning travel till we get to the edge of the Duinath and meet up with Raghnall. And no fires Áleifr!"

This started up new complaints from the other two voices but Saeran was not interested. Someone grabbed her by her bound hands and gruffly yanked her from the horse she was on. She hit the ground hard and lay there motionless listening to the sounds of the camp being made. After a moment she began to carefully attempt to feel around searching for anything that would tell her if her son was taken with her. Suddenly a hand grabbed her by the hood around her head, wrenching her neck up painfully.

"What do you think you're doin?"

"Take off her hood Hiálmr and leave 'er alone."

Saeran felt the ties around her neck being loosened and the hood was yanked off taking a few strands of hair with it. She winced and looked up at her captors. Two sources of the voices stood before her. The one called Hiálmr still held the hood as he leered down at her. They were both dark haired and bearded, dressed in worn leathers made for travel and each had huge knife attached to their belts and Hiálmr had an axe strapped to his back while the other, she thought he was the one called Isak, had a sword at his waist. By process of elimination, the one called Áleifr was in the background rummaging through some packs. Saeran's did not recognize any of them.

"She's no worse for wear," said Hiálmr as he hooked her skirt with his boot and began to pull it up. She kicked his foot away and began to squirm away from them the best she could. Hiálmr grabbed her by the foot and drug her back over to them and then pulled her up by a fist full of hair. Saeran cried out, as there was not much more she could do with her hands and feet still bound and spit at her captor. The one she thought was Isak laughed and Hiálmr threw her back to the ground and gave a swift kick to her stomach, knocking the breath out of her.

"That's enough. We get less if she's dead you know."

"Never said I wanted to kill 'er," Hiálmr sneered and grabbed her skirt again, this time pulling all the way up over her waist. "And we were never told we couldn't have a little sport." Saeran's heart began to pound and she felt as if she may throw up. She tried to scoot away again as Hiálmr held her legs.

"No Hiálmr," said Isak. Hiálmr stopped and looked at the other. "I said no. Finian will pay twice as much if she's alive and unspoiled. If you compromise my share, I'll take it out of your ass. Go."

Hiálmr looked at Saeran, and by the dangerous glint in his eye she knew this what not over. He stood up and leered as he walked past him.

"Of course."

Isak watched for a moment as he walked away and then turned back and looked at Saeran. He reached in the satchel he held and pulled out a waterskin and held it out in front of Saeran.

"If I give you some of this are you gonna spit at me?" he asked. Saeran looked at him for a moment and shook her head. He pulled the stopper out and held the waterskin to her mouth. The water was warm and tasted of leather but Saeran drank greedily. She looked up at her captor.

"Please," she begged, "there is still time. Please, let me go, just leave me here."

"Now why would I do that?" he said. His smile was disingenuous.

"Because if you do there is still a chance you will live." She spoke with enough confidence that the false smile Isak gave her slipped, but only a little. He leaned in towards Saeran.

"Are you referring to your elf friends?" he asked. "We have been watching you for some time now Saeran. Someone had reported that they saw you out here a while ago and we have been watching you ever since. It is common knowledge that you have whored yourself out to the elves of that fortress and while I doubt they will put forth to much effort to find your old tired ass, just in case they did, we are prepared."

"Whatever they are paying you, I can match. I can double." Isak laughed out loud at this.

"Now that I could get behind! We are being paid very well, but you got a blood debt my dear. A blood debt that someone is offering a lot of coin to the person who can bring you to pay. Pity we couldn't find your sons. It woulda been double."

Saeran felt immense relief when she heard that. "Evon had nothing to do with what happened, he was two at the time. Leave him alone."

"Afraid that can't happen. Finian wants an heir and his brother's sons returned to him. Where is the older one Saeran."

She gave him a flat look. "He's dead."

"Hmmm," he pursed his lips and looked disappointed. "Well, that's not gonna go over well."

"Tell 'er what they did to her mother!" shouted a voice that she thought was Hiálmr. She began to feel sick again. Isak rolled his eyes.

"Everyone knows what they do to witches Hiálmr."

Saeran cried out at that and kicked at Isak as hard as she could, knocking him back. This elicited laughter from behind him and he stood back up and grabbed Saeran by the collar, striking her hard with the back of his hand, sending her sprawling. He turned and grabbed the hood and sat her back up.

"If you can't play nice Saeran . . ." he said as he began to place it back over her head but before he did she leveled a glare as cold as death at him.

"He is going to kill you when he finds you."

"Worry about your own head girl."

With that he yanked the hood down and tightened it around her neck. Saeran curled up into a ball, closed her eyes and focused inward, reaching for the bond. He was there. She could feel him. And he raged.

The Saeran did not rest most of the night. She sat in wide eyed terror, unsure of what would happen to her with these men but knowing all too well what her fate will be if they get her to Finian.  _Finian_ , she thought with disgust. He was even worse than his brother, if that was possible. He once had a man legs cut off at the knees for standing over him. Nevermind he was barely a meter and a half. He was even more twisted for he was the second son with nothing to lose and took great enjoyment in the torment of others. Saeran wept every time she thought of what had been done to her mother. It was much easier when she was not confronted with it.

Hands grabbed her by the shoulders and she flinched at the touch as they pulled her up, although she noticed they were not as rough as last time. The hood came off and she quinted at the sunlight. The third party of her captors stood before her now, the one called Áleifr. He seemed slightly younger than the other two but just as dirty. He untied the ropes that bound her feet and her arms screamed in relief after being tied behind her back all night. She stretched her arms and rubbed at her wrists and looked at the man before her warily.

"Thank you," she said.

"Not doin' it to be nice," he mumbled and pulled her arms in front of her and bound her wrists again, leaving a length of rope coming off like a leash. He then bent down and untied her feet and lead her away by with the rope. Áleifr mounted his horse and they set off, the three of them riding as she was lead on foot.

This went on for what felt like an eternity for Saeran. At least when Isak or Áleifr lead her along they slowed to where she could almost trudge alongside. When the beast Hiálmr took her lead he never slowed his pace and she would have to trot sometimes to keep up for if she did not and fell, he would drag her along till Isak would tell him to stop. Mustn't damage the cargo.

They reached the edge of the forest of Taur-im-Duinath by midday and stopped for a brief rest. Saeran collapsed on the ground. They tied the rope to a tree but Saeran could not go anywhere even if she tried. She was simply too weak. When she reached for the bond lately it felt faint or maybe it was just her. They did not feed her but for some hardtack that Áleifr had thrown her way, he was also the only one who did not kick or hit at her when trying to get her to move. When it came time to relieve herself she was grateful when he was the one who would take her for while he did not turn his back to her, he at least looked away. Hiálmr on the other hand would leer at her, sometimes standing uncomfortably close so he could get a better view. She was always on guard when he was around. While Isak looked at her as an appraiser would at potential profit, Hiálmr looked at her with a predator's eyes and she feared him.

Isak shouted for Hiálmr to take Saeran to the edge of the tree line so she could relieve herself before they left but Áleifr stood up and reached her first saying he would do it since he had to go as well. Hiálmr said nothing as Áleifr took the rope and lead her to the tree line, but the look he gave her spoke volumes. Upon reaching the trees, Saeran made to go to one when Áleifr yanked the rope, pulling her back.

"Don't go into the woods," he said eyeing the shadowy forest in front of them. "Not even orcs go in there. Best not to find out why."

Saeran looked at the giant trees that loomed before her and thought that it could not be any worse than what waited for her. She looked back at Áleifr.

"Do your business," he said, "I am not interested." He did not turn away but his eyes went to the forest and he waited.

Saeran squatted down did what she had to do but she noticed when she was done he did not relieve himself like he had said he needed to. She looked at him curiously.

"Would you rather have Hiálmr with you?" he asked and when she shook her head no he nodded. "Neither would I."

"Please," she whispered, "let me go." He looked at her a moment but his face revealed nothing.

"You killed a man, girl. Not just any many either but your husband and chief. You have to answer for that. Can't help you." He watched her as tears began to build in her eyes. "Can't tell you what's gonna to happen with Finian, but I can tell you that I won't let Hiálmr bother you. That I can do." Saeran felt the tears fall down her face. He did not realize that Hiálmr's intentions were nothing compared to Finian's justice.

They continued on throughout the day and Áleifr held on to Saeran's lead much to Hiálmr's irritation. The followed the forest, remaining outside of the tree line, careful never to cross it. Isak constantly kept a wary eye on the woods as if he were watching for something. Once Saeran thought she had seen something, a figure perhaps, but she was delirious and could not account for much. She could not even reach out for the bond she was so exhausted. All she could do was hope that Maedhros was not far behind. By dusk they had come upon a small camp of fifteen to twenty men and Saeran realized this must be Raghnall's group.  _Where was Maedhros_ , she thought. Isak went up to whom Saeran assumed was Raghnall. He was large and dark, with a bald head and a beard that covered his face and dark beady eyes. He was dressed in similar leathers as Isak with the same large knife at his waist.

"Took ya long enough. Laid out the false trails, should keep 'em busy for a while. Was she where they said?"

"Aye, holed up with the Winsterhand and his folk."

"Yer short two eh?" Isak nodded.

"Couldn't get to the youngest and the older ones' dead."

Raghnall let out a low whistle. "Finian's not gonna be happy 'bout that."

Isak shrugged. "He'll get over it."

"Less money too."

"Yeah, 'bout that. I was thinkin'. Finian's been waitin' a long time for this, yes? It was our people who spotted her in the keep when they were lookin' for supplies, yeah? Never gave them recompense, yeah? Thought we might be able to renegotiate that." Raghnall laughed.

"You want to negotiate with Finian?" he guffawed. "Yer aware of how he negotiates eh?" Isak just smiled.

"But now we got her. And I think he may be up for almost anything to get a hold of her. Just hear me out on this." Raghnall laughed.

"This I must hear! Tie 'er off somewhere and come to my tents. We can get some drink and talk there."

Isak turned back to Áleifr. "Bind up her feet again and tie her off over by my tents. Go get some food and drink and tell Hiálmr to do the same."

As Áleifr pulled her to an area across the camp they passed a large fire pit were most of the men sat cooking meet and drinking. If Saeran was not so exhausted that she could barely stand she might have felt something at the sight and smell of the food, but she could not feel anything at the moment other than fear. The men around the fire shouted greetings to the other two men and sent jeers Saeran's way. A few drunkenly groped at her and Áleifr kicked them away shouting that Isak has ordered that she remain unspoiled lest they get less money. Shouts of protest met him with that statement but the groping stopped and they went back to their food and drink. The dark hair and swarthy build told Saeran all she needed to know. If they were not of her old tribe, they were from the neighboring villages and their accents gave them away. She felt dizzy and nauseous and completely hopeless. Her hands were numb from being tied for so long and now her feet were being bound and would most likely go numb too. Áleifr finished binding her feet and then secured her leash line before he left to join the others at the fire.

Saeran was finally alone. Immediately she began to pull on the ropes that held her hands. Her wrists were read and raw but since they had gone numb she felt nothing as her skin began to tear as she worked at her bindings. She had been doing this for the better part of the day and a small spark of hope grew inside her when she realized she had achieved a small amount of give. The night went on this way for her. Occasionally Áleifr would come along to check on her and she would sit there motionless till he left. At some point the group around the fire began to disperse and things became much quieter. Night was full upon them and there was no moon so Saeran was able to work at the ropes in the shadows. At one point she heard Áleifr walk up again and she held still waiting for him to leave. The footsteps walked over to where Saeran's leash was and after a moment she heard them come over to where she lay. She held still and waited thinking he was going to go soon when she was pulled up and a hand went over her mouth as the other held a knife to her throat. Hot breath that reeked of mead and beef came across the side of her face and the voice in her ear left her little doubt on what was going to happen next.

"Not a sound," Hiálmr hissed.

Saeran's heart began to pound and desperately she looked around for Áleifr or Isak or anyone as he dragged her off into the darkness of the trees. Once they reached his destination he threw her to the ground and landed a knee on her chest, keeping her pinned and knocking the wind out of her at the same time. He then pulled a filthy rag and shoved it into Saeran's mouth and tying tightly around her head so that when she cried out it was muffled and would not be heard by any in the camp. He then lay on top of her and swiftly cut the ties around her ankles so that he could hike her skirts up to her waist as he forced her legs open with his knees. Saeran began to struggle fiercley and scream through her gag. Her ties around her hands were loose and she was able to twist her hands around so as to send her nails raking across Hiálmr's face. He spat out a curse and sat up, pinning her arms with his kness and began to strike her hard across her face. Her vision began to blur and the pain was blinding. With each hit she felt the fight leave her and began to go limp. Suddenly Hiálmr stopped hitting her and she heard him shout. Her eyes were heavy and she had a hard time seeing due to the blood but she looked up and saw Áleifr standing in front of her holding Hiálmr by the collar. He threw Hiálmr to the ground and pointed the long knife from his belt at him.

"That's enough Hiálmr. You know what Isak said."

Hiálmr practically snarled at him as he wiped the blood from his nose. "I'm gonna kill you!" he spat.

"If Isak finds out what you tried to do, he'll kill you. You're drunk. Now –"

Suddenly Áleifr stopped speaking. He looked down with a surprised expression and stared at the arrow shaft that protruded from his chest. He looked up at Hiálmr just as a second one went through his throat and he fell to his kness with a wet gurgling sound. Hiálmr shouted out in alarm and ran for the camp forgetting about Saeran entirely. Saeran looked at Áleifr as his eyes glazed over and his hands stopped twitching. She then grabbed his large knife and staggered to the trees.

Once Saeran was past the treeline she collapsed against the trunks of one of the large trees of the dark forest. She could vaguely make out the sound of men shouting and the sound of horses and swords clanging in the background. She did not have to reach for the bond for it seared at her. It was a torrent of white heat that burned at her very being. He was here, he had finally come and now he would kill them all.

Saeran sat down and began to work at the ties around her wrists with the knife. After her hands were free she removed the filthy gag from around her mouth and spit on the ground in a sad attempt to get the foul taste from her mouth. She pulled herself up and looked through the trees at the camp. It was chaos. Turmoil reigned and she watched as tents burst into flames and men fought in the night. So engrossed in the battle before her she was that she almost did not notice Hiálmr come up beside her. He swung the axe in his hand at her head but she was able to move out of the way, causing him to embed the blade into the tree behind her. Something in Saeran snapped and adrenaline pumped strength into her person. She leapt on him, driving the long knife she had taken from Áleifr into his shoulder bringing both of them to the ground. She had been aiming for his chest but her vision was still blurry, so she pushed on the knife as hard as she could, twisting it as she bore down. Hiálmr let out a cry and hit her hard across the face knocking her to the side. Saeran grabbed at whatever she could and attacked Hiálmr, knowing that if she did not continue to keep the upper hand she would not live. As he tried to pull the knife from his shoulder Saeran grabbed a fallen branch from the ground and swung as hard as she could, striking the side of Hiálmr's head with a sickening thud. He fell to the side like a sack, but Saeran did not stop. She kept hitting Hiálmr's prone body with the branch till she lost her balance and fell to her knees across his back.

She knelt there, shocked at what she had done till finally she dropped completely to the ground to the side of Hiálmr's bloodied body and lay there, curled up into a tiny little ball. She lay there for several moments before realizing that the sounds of the battle had died down and that she was alone in the woods with the beast that tried to rape her. At least she thought she was alone, for when she turned over to sit up she saw a figure was sitting on their haunches next to her, studying her in the dark.

Saeran jumped back and away, scrambling over Hiálmr only to back into the legs of yet another figure that stood in the dark. Saeran squeaked and tried to get up to run only for the shadowy hooded figure to grab and restrain her gently, making a soft shushing noise as they pushed her behind them, making a gesture to her as if to tell her to wait. The figure that had been squatting next to her moved towards Hiálmr as the other one vanished into the shadows towards the treeline. Saeran watched as the figure tied Hiálmr's hands and was surprised to see it was female. She was dressed in hunting attire with a short bow across her back and a quiver full of arrows at her waist. She wore a cloak with the hood pulled up and she seem to almost disappear against the foliage as she moved. Her face was painted in such a way that her eyes seemed sunken in her face and the whites stood out, but even with the paint she could tell she was elven.

When she was done securing Hiálmr, she snatched the long knife from his shoulder and wiped it off. When it was clean she looked up at Saeran and gave her a little smile as she stood up and offered her knife hilt first. Saeran just stared at her for a moment unsure of what to do. She was having a difficult time thinking. She was having a most difficult time understanding what was going on and began to sway a little on her feet. The female elf in front of her stared for a moment before she put the knife away and reached to her waist to pull out a small water skin. She set down the knife and then opened the flask, holding it to Saeran's lips, trying to get her to drink. Saeran numbly did what she wanted her to do and took a sip and when she did a cold rush coursed through her, making her gasp and her eyes go wide. Her body seemed to come alive again and her mind awake. The elf pushed the flask at her again and Saeran drank deeply and the rush that went through her body again seemed to take away some of the pain and hurt, and Saeran suddenly felt very alert and even thought she could see better in the dark. The elf looked at her closely for a moment and seemed to approve of what she saw for she closed up the flask and put it back on her waist and extended the knife once more to Saeran. Saeran took the knife and stared in awe at the woman in front of her who simply smiled back. Something behind Saeran pulled the elf's attention and she reached down and grabbed Hiálmr by the leg and began to drag him along. She looked up at Saeran and gestured for her to follow. Saeran reached down to help her drag Hiálmr but she stopped her and gestured again for Saeran to go on.

Saeran made for the treeline but halted upon reaching it for a group of dark figures stood there and she could not help but feel afraid at first. But then a warm rush surged through the bond and she knew. Suddenly she was running and found herself swept up in an embrace and cried out from joy. He pulled her face up so he could see her and his relief was palpable but his anger was overwhelming. His hand covered her, inspecting the bruises and wiping at the dried blood that was smeared all over her. As he did this she looked at the others that stood next to Maedhros and saw that they were all dressed like the female elf in the woods, except their hoods were pushed back causing the paint they wore on their faces to look even more disconcerting. Suddenly Saeran gave out a little yelp as Maedhros pressed against her ribs and he pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing slightly. Once he was satisfied with what he saw he held her to him and looked at the female elf behind her dragging Hiálmr along.

"Hon cuin?" he asked as she approached.

"Da," she replied looking down at Hiálmr.

"Maer," said Maedhros. "Im gar-thang an-i-adan."

Saeran listened only partially to the conversation as she looked around her. Maglor stood off in the distance giving orders to Thannor. How strange he looked in his armor, his sword in his hand and the heavy blue riding cloak he wore about his shoulders with the great eight pointed star embroidered on the back. He stood there cold and deadly in the dark as the fires from the tents made his eyes take on that strange and peculiar light. Saeran saw there were two other figures standing next to him and was shocked to see it was Elrond and Elros. She moved to go towards them but Maedhros only held her tighter to him and so she pressed into his side once more, content to stay right there as well. Maedhros continued to speak to the strange elves around him. Before they broke away and vanished into the trees. Maglor walked up and spoke to his brother in their strange language. Any other time she would become irritated at this but the effects of the drink she had been given was wearing off and exhaustion was closing in. Maedhros sensed this and spoke once more to Maglor before he scooped Saeran up and headed towards the trees.

"Where are we going?" she mumbled.

"It is unsafe for us to be out in the open. Erynith has offered her camp to us and we shall stay within the woods tonight."

Saeran did not care where they stayed. She was with him and therefore nothing else mattered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maglor watched as Maedhros headed towards the trees with carrying a much wounded Saeran with him. Her ribs were severly bruised, possibly even broken. They had been cruel. Maglor looked down at the tied up crumpled man at his feet. Thannor walked up with the peredhil behind him.

"Gather the rest of the men and make for the trees. We will be staying with the Úmanyar tonight. Take this," Maglor nudged the bound man with his foot, "and secure it. I wish to speak with it when it wakes."

Thannor turned and called out into the night and two more men strode up and grabbed the man on the ground a carried him away. Maglor looked at Elrond and Elros. They had fought bravely tonight. They did not falter even once. They were standing but only barely. Elrond's eyes had a slight glazed look to them as he watched Thannor take the wounded man away. And Elros, Elros looked ill. They had fought orcs and killed them indiscriminately, but men they had not fought. Men, they had never killed. All of the bravado of earlier was gone now and the harsh realization of what they had done began to sink in. Orcs would squeal and scream incoherently, their cries easily ignored. They did not plead for their lives, their eyes held no semblance of a fëa. The peredhil had never had to kill men, and it showed.

Maglor wanted to reach out to them. To comfort and console. He wanted to tell them they did what had to be done, it was not their fault and that all will be well. But he did not. Those days were over. Instead he did what any commander must do to his soldiers and he summoned the voice of Canafinwë.

"You two."

The peredhil's heads snapped up and they looked at Maglor.

"Assist with the cleanup and gather what supplies can be taken with us for the journey back. When you are done with that look to Thannor for what is needed next."

The twins stared at him with wide dazed eyes, but they nodded and found purpose in their steps. If they wished to go to war then they must realize this was barely even a taste of what was to come.


	9. Chapter 9

Elrond numbly walked towards the treeline. Once there he heard Elros behind him throwing up. He waited with his back to his brother; he knew Elros would not want him to acknowledge this. Once he was done they walked over to Thannor who directed them to one of the green elves to see where they would sleep. Laiquendi, Elrond thought. Had the circumstances been different Elrond would have been intrigued to no end. As it was he could only vaguely register the strange elf in front of him.

"Tol aphada-nin-am peredhel," the elf said and Elrond watched as he shimmied up the tree. Upon closer inspection Elrond found small indentions along the side that allowed him to get a foothold and climb. Upon reaching the top Elrond saw a flat with three mats set laid out on it.

"Hoda-sí ae-thang." The elf then turned and leapt down from the tree.

Elrond watched his brother collapse on the mat. He curled up and said nothing as Elrond sat down on the mat next to him. Elrond looked around him. He could tell there were other flats in amongst the trees but not who was on them. He heard singing from somewhere below; a prayer to Elbereth Gilthoniel and Elrond could not help but feel it was horribly out of place here. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

He could not stop seeing the image, no, that made it sound as if Elrond had not done anything when he did, he had done everything. He had severed a man's fëa from his body. He had plunged his sword in the man's chest and he had pulled the sword out releasing a spray of blood that spattered the light armor he wore. He had seen the light in the man's eyes as it dimmed and winked out and is hröa became nothing but an empty shell. He had done that. He had taken this life as if it were nothing. It had been so easy, almost effortless. They were nothing more than mercenaries and bounty hunters taken by surprise, most of them drunk and he had come in and swept them away like so many leaves in the wind.

Maglor did not even bother to dismount his horse. He rode with four others, charging through the center of the camp, cutting down tents and lighting them on fire, creating the initial confusion. Maedhros was on the ground leaving a path of bodies in his wake of those who were foolish enough to charge him. He face was dark and fell and his eyes black but for two pinpricks of cold light that shown from within as he seared through the camp looking for Saeran. Maglor shouted orders from Aldoron and Elrond found himself responding to that voice without thinking. It was over in minutes. This band of men was no match and most tried to run towards the woods only to get picked off by the Laiquendi who waited there. None were spared. Elrond had seen Maglor talking to Maedhros from his mount, shouting for his men to tear down any standing tents to see if anyone was inside before Maedhros was approached by one of the Laiquendi and followed him into the night. It was only till after all was done and Saeran was found that Elrond realized that no one had known for certain if she was even in the camp, and still they rode in anyway.

Elrond dropped his head down onto his knees as the singing below increased in volume as more voices joined in from the dark. This is not what he wanted, to kill indiscriminately, cold and unfeeling. He wanted to contribute to this world, to aid this land and its people. He did not want to become like Maglor who should have been one of the greatest bard's of the age only to be forced into a life that he was never meant to live and hating himself for living it, and yet still making the choice to live it the way that he did.

It was in this moment that Elrond knew that he could not do this again. He would join the Valar against Morgoth, for that was a righteous fight and against a true evil that must be completely destroyed if this world and its inhabitants were to survive. But unless he was fighting Morgoth or his minions, he would never take a sword up again against any of the peoples of this land again.

It was not till he felt a hand on his shoulder that he realized he was crying. He looked up, expecting to see Maglor or even Maedhros but saw his brother instead. Elros looked down at him, his head framed by starlight and his eyes, tired and red rimmed. He looked at Elrond for a moment before pulling him into an embrace. Elrond buried his face into his brother's shoulder and wept.

When Elrond woke he found Elros gone. The sun had not yet risen above the horizon but the light was steadily spreading and would break soon. He took a moment to look at his surroundings in the light and was impressed with what he saw. An intricate camp of flats was interconnected with rope bridges throughout the trees. An entire village could take up residence here and Elrond thought perhaps that actually was what he was looking at. A small little society here on the edge of the wilderness.

Elrond descended from the tree and found Elros almost immediately. He sat in a small clearing eating with several of the Laiquendi; most of whom were female. Elros was showing several of the girls a chain that he had fastened himself as they admired his work. It seemed that Elros had found his smile again.

Elrond looked around the encampment and saw no sign of the brothers or any of the other men for that matter. Wagons were being loaded and the Laiquendi looked as if they were preparing to depart. Elrond walked over to Elros.

"Where is Maglor?" Elros looked up and his smile faltered only slightly at the question. He turned to his companions.

"Gohena-nin."

This elicited giggles from several of the female members of the company while the male members stood with their arms folded across their chests, smiling and shaking their heads. Elros stood up and walked a short distance away with Elrond who looked at Elros suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" he asked his brother.

"What?" Elros said innocently. "I'm . . . talking."

"Talking," Elrond said flatly.

"Yes," insisted Elros, "talking!" Elrond sighed and shook his head at his brother.

"Well, be careful what you "talk" about. Where is Maglor?" Elros had opened his mouth to protest but became somber when Elrond asked about Maglor.

"He is gone with Maedhros. We are to take Saeran back to the keep." Elrond narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Where has he gone with Maedhros?" Elros looked at Elrond; any trace of the mirth he had shown earlier was gone.

"Apparently the group of men we . . . found last night was hired by another man to find Saeran and her sons. He has a bounty out on her and he is a day's ride from here. They have gone to find him."

The brothers looked at each other; the unspoken truth of what the Feanorians will do when they found the man passed silently between them.

"How did they find this out?"

"From the man that was found with Saeran."

"And where is he?"

Elros said nothing, only looked at his brother. Elrond nodded and folded his arms across his chest. He looked up at the sun as it rose from behind the hills, creating hundreds of points of light that broke through the gaps in the trees.

"And we are to take Saeran to the Keep."

"Yes. They are making a pallet to lower her down. Erynith believes she may have cracked her ribs for her breathing is painful. She has been given a tonic for discomfort but she needs to get back."

"But where is Thannor? Are we left with no one to accompany us?"

"Ah," said Elros brightening a bit, "Erynith and several of her people agreed to escort us most of the way."

"Erynith?"

"Yes, she is the leader of this group. Did you know that they have many female leaders in their clan? Take Lhaindes over there," Elros pointed to a pretty dark haired elleth he had been sitting by, "she is soon to take over her own guard. Impressive don't you think?" Elros smiled and waved at the one called Lhaindes who simply smiled back as the other females around began to laugh softly. Elrond looked at his brother.

"Elros, you have not given anything to any of the elleth here have you?"

"Now what does that mean?" Elrond grabbed his brother by the shoulders and turned him so he faced him fully.

"I mean have you gifted anything to any of the girls around you? A trinket, a flower, anything?"

"No!"

"Good." Elrond's relief at hearing this was palpable.

". . . why?"

"Because," said Elrond brining both hands up to rub at his temples as he spoke, "amongst the green elves it is custom for the male to present the female with a gift when making a statement of intention. Even the most banal of gestures can be seen as something far more serious. Really Elros, did you do any of the reading Maglor gave us?"

"Yes . . . mostly! Anyway, leave me be! I have not done anything but enjoy another's company thank you very much."

"Good. Make sure it stays that way. It is said that the women of this clan outnumber the men 3 to 1 and have been known to dupe many unsuspecting Noldor into marriage when they first arrived here after the crossing. The last thing we need is for you to become unintentionally betrothed."

The unabashedly shocked expression on Elros's face satisfied Elrond enough to convince him his brother would not do something stupid.

"I am going to go see to Saeran. Make sure that we are able to get any provisions that we may still need from your new friends and meet me at the treeline. We should start preparing to leave soon."

Elros was still too shocked at what Elrond had just told him to object to taking orders from his brother. He grasped the thin silver chain around his throat that Lhaindes had been admiring. She had liked it so much he had planned to give it to her before they left. Just a simple gesture, a gift, because pretty girls like gifts and Lhaindes was very pretty. He turned back to the group of Laiquendi that he had been sitting with, and their smiles that had seemed so friendly and encouraging earlier now seemed appraising and almost predatory. Lhaindes graced him with a very pretty and expectant smile and several of the girls waived for him to return. Elros raised his hands in apology and pointed behind him, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to make for the wagons.

Elrond walked over to a group of elves and asked for Erynith. One of the men pointed up and when Elrond looked he saw a female standing atop a pallet that was slowly being lowered down. Once it was almost to the ground, several of the men gently took the pallet as the one Elrond assumed was Erynith released it from the rope and gracefully leapt down. Elrond walked over to the pallet as they carefully set it down and looked at Saeran. She slept for now, albeit somewhat fitfully. There was a fine sheen of sweat about her and ugly purple bruises marred her face. Elrond placed his hands on her waist and gently touched along the side of her body and when he pulled up the loose tunic she wore he winced at the extent of the damage. He reached into the satchel around his shoulder and pulled out a poultice of his own making and began to apply generous amounts to where the most damage was, whispering a little prayer to Elbereth as he did so. When he was done he placed the balm back in to the satchel and rose to address Erynith and found her and the other elves standing motionless as they watched him. Elrond became increasingly uncomfortable under their intense gaze as he could see awe in several of the eyes that stared at him. He walked to Erynith and inclined his head respectfully.

"A word if I may."

With a flick of Erynith's hand the group that stood around them dispersed and vanished into the trees.

"Am I to understand that you will accompany us for part of our journey to Amon Ereb?"

"Yes. Just till the Eglath return and then we shall go our own way." Elrond's lips pursed slightly at that term but if Erynith was bothered she did not show it.

"We thank you for your aide."

"You and your brother are the descendants of Elu Thingol and Melian, children of Beren and Luthien, the heirs of Dior. We are always here to aide you."

Elrond did not know how to respond to this so he simply looked back at Saeran, embarrassed at his lack of response.

"I have given her something to help her sleep although I feel it is nothing compared with what you were able to do."

"I have done nothing. It is merely a balm."

"You have a gift Ernil. Embrace it."

"How soon will your people be ready to depart?"

"We wait for your word." This had surprised Elrond.

"Do you have horses?"

She smiled at Elrond. "We will need no beast to bear us. Just tell me when you are ready."

"Elros has secured supplies but I will need a wagon for Saeran as she is unable to ride."

"I will see this done." And then she left.

Elrond sighed and knelt back down next to Saeran. He was ready to leave.

After Saeran was settled on the wagon they set off, traveling along the edge of the Duinath north towards Amon Ereb. Although they traveled slowly so as not to cause Saeran too much discomfort, they still made good time. Erynith's people trotted alongside the two wagons as Elros and Elrond lead the caravan. Elrond smiled as he watched the small group of elleth try to get Elros's attention as he rode and how Elros carefully looked everywhere but at them. Elrond was impressed at the pace the Laiquendi were able to keep. They showed no sign of weariness and never held them up. In fact Elrond was certain that if anyone was slowing anyone down it was he and his brother and not the Laiquendi. He had absolute faith that Erynith and her people could make Amon Ereb before nightfall and not the next evening as they would. He found them a curious people and wished he could take the time to learn more of their ways. They were reclusive and for them to have come out of hiding to help them much less agree to aid the Feanorians was surprising and Elrond wondered if it were he and his brother that truly influenced them. They rarely took up arms against anyone and did not concern themselves with the troubles of this land. He wondered how this relationship came about.

As nightfall approached they found a place to camp along the edge of the Duinath. From here they could see the line of the Andram as well as the peak of Amon Ereb and Elrond knew that they would make the Keep by the end of the day tomorrow. Elros looked at Elrond and when he nodded, Elros called to Erynith that they were stopping here for the night. Elrond went to Saeran's wagon and found her semi-awake. She looked up at him and gave a tired smile. Elrond noticed that the bruises along her face looked much fainter and called to Elros to assist him with the cover for her wagon so he could apply more balm. They set up her shelter and Elrond tended her wounds as Elros set up their tent.

Darkness descended completely upon them and so they started a fire and sat back. The hour was late when Maedhros and Maglor returned with the others from their task and Elrond could tell just by looking at the company that this man would not be bothering Saeran again. They rode up and dismounted and Maedhros briefly checked in on Saeran before going to Erynith with Maglor. They stood off to the side of the camp talking low and Maedhros handed a sack to Erynith. She opened it up and took out a stone that lit up as she touched it and Elrond realized they were lamps he was giving her. A good amount too for Erynith looked pleased at the exchange. She looked up at Maedhros and did some strange hand to heart salute that he and Maglor returned and then turned and left, vanishing into the trees for the last time. Elrond listened as Erynith and her Laiquendi sang as they left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The days and nights went by and the seasons changed and soon Elrond found himself standing in his empty room in the Keep. He and Elros's belongings had been secured in the days before and they had spent last night celebrating their twentieth begetting day in the main hall. It had been a bittersweet night. A night of celebration and remembrance. Music had been played and many songs had been sung. Maglor had gifted them with many great heirlooms of their house for he had saved them at the Havens in hope that this day would come. The axe of Tour and the bow of Bregor were presented to them, and Aranúth the sword of Thingol and finally the ring of Barahir of whom Maglor sang many songs of and Elrond joined him.

The night wore on and many of the men began to return to their own quarters as they had been given leave to join the peredhil if they so wished. Evon lay sleeping on one of the benches after a valiant struggle to remain awake to possess every minute he could with the twins before they left him on the morrow. He was bitter at being left behind, but he was only ten, to young yet to leave but old enough to remember they had said they would take him with them. Elros had reassured Evon repeatedly they would send for him when he came of age but it did little to console him. He did not understand that they could not stay here anymore having reached the full extent of knowledge and experience they could gleen from the brother's, those fearful Fëanorians. Elrond looked at Maedhros as he sat next to Saeran. He was the most peaceful Elrond had ever seen him. Meadhros had put so much of his own well being into her that Elrond was almost relieved that he would not be here when it ended and yet it saddened him greatly at the same time. He wished he had become interested in healing sooner so he could have perhaps made a difference. At another time he would have wondered what was wrong with him and would have resented the brothers for bringing forth such thoughts and feelings, but no longer.

He looked at Maglor who was smiling at something Elros had said. He had never called him father and when Elrond and his brother had come here, they were aware of all of the horrible things the brothers had done and Maglor had never been of a mind to deny or avoid it. But Maglor  _was_  the only father they had ever known and Elrond would find himself wondering as time wore on if he was making Maglor proud or if Maglor would have done some particular task the same way as he did, or if Maglor would approve of the choice he had made. A great love existed now between them. Maglor has been the major developmental influence on their lives, shaping them into the men they are and would continue to become. They loved him, and they knew that he loved them in return, although neither had ever said as much, making that perhaps the greatest evil ever done to the other.

Elrond closed the door to his room and left for the main courtyard. Many of the men had gathered, some to escort, some to continue on with them and some just to bid farwell. Elrond watched as Elros embraced Evon and wiped the sullen tears that flowed from the boys eyes. He whispered something to him and Evon nodded as he looked at the ground. Elros kissed him lightly on the head and then turned to Saeran and embraced her as well before he went to Maedhros and Maglor. He stood there huddled with the two brothers for several moments before he grabbed them both in a fierce embrace, eventually letting go of Maedhros to hold Maglor for a moment longer. At least Elrond thought that Elros let go but when he looked at Maedhros he thought again, for Maedhros watched Elros with Maglor in understanding that they needed a moment longer alone.

Elrond looked down at Evon who still refused to look up, so he knelt down and search for his eyes that lay hidden beneath a curtain of dark hair. As he embraced Evon and felt the boy hold him desperately back, all of the words of encouragement and strength he had prepared left him and he found himself looking at the boy and telling him the only thing he thought would bring any real solace.

"I will see you again soon."

He turned to Saeran and held her and she smiled as she cried and brushed his hair from his face in an affectionate way his own mother had never done. But when he came to Maedhros he felt his composure falter, and as the great elf lord took him into an embrace, it fell completely. Elrond wanted to grab him and shake him. To warn him and save him. He did not want the end to come in the way his visions tormented him. He wanted to tell Maedhros to turn away from that path and to come with them and seek redemption with the Valar. But in the end he said nothing. Maedhros gently pulled away from Elrond and handed him an object wrapped in silk and Elrond marveled at the item as he unwrapped it. It was a circlet of fine and delicate design, adorned with a single jewel that resembled a star upon Elrond's forehead. The craftsmanship was exquisite and flawless and Elrond knew that Maedhros had made it for he had learned from the greatest craftsmen who ever lived.

Elrond turned and looked at Maglor and having already given up on any semblance of etiquette, threw himself in the other's arms. Maglor stepped back slightly at the ferocity of the embrace, but his hands wrapped around Elrond and held him gently, only releasing him when Elrond pulled away to wipe at his face. Maglor held Elrond's weeping face in his hands and kissed him lightly atop his head. Maglor reached out and beckoned to Elros who walked up and Elrond noticed that he too wore a circlet of similar design though subtly different. The three of them stood there a moment before he presented them with one last parting gift.

To Elros he gave his sword, Narsil forged by the last of the greatest of dwarvin smiths Telchar. Elros protested that he did not deserve it for he had never managed to tag Maglor only to have Maglor assure him emphatically that indeed he had.

And to Elrond he gave his own great silver harp, commissioned by Finwë himself and forged by Fëanor as a gift for his son and grandson.

He placed a hand on the side of each of their faces and spoke softly.

"You will do great things."

And as they rode off Elrond wept for the last time as he realized he still had not said I love you.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Círdan turned to Gil-Galad upon reaching the Falls of Sirion. The peredhil were where the Fëanorians said they would be. One of the two stood at the mouth of the cave as the other seemed to be exploring behind the waterfall. The one at the cave must have seen them for he called to his brother who emerged from behind the water to look up the company at the top of the falls.

"They look healthy," said Círdan," and yet so . . . Fëanorian."

Gil-Galad shook his head at the disdain in the others voice and smiled.

"I suppose that is because they are," he said and lead the company down the trail to the falls.


	10. Chapter 10

Evon fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. A long shadow came over him and he looked up to see Maedhros standing over him, blocking the sun. His head tilted slightly as he looked down, leaning on his long stave.

"You have to let the stave do the work for you Evon. If you close the distance to much you defeat its purpose."

Evon placed his hands behind his head and lay there looking up at the great elven lord who seemed to be able to force the sun to dim so he could be seen. He enjoyed the shade for about two seconds before quickly rolling out of the way to avoid the swipe from Maedhros's long stave. He squatted low and looked up, but this time he had to squint, unsure who was blazing brighter, Maedhros or the sun. He held his stave out defensively before him prepared for the next strike but Maedhros had gone back to his leisurely stance leaning against his own. Evon was no longer certain if the Maedhros had even moved at all.

"As I was saying," Meadhros said as he looked at him through half lidded eyes and giving off a lackadaisical air that Evon knew better than to fall for. "The long stave suits you well for it gives you the extra reach that you need and will keep your opponent at a distance you can control. If he gets too close the weapon will become constrained and ineffective and we have seen how that ends . . . repeatedly."

Evon blew his hair out of his face and gave a little half smile.

"I got close this time."

Maedhros gave Evon a slow blink as he continued to give him that deceptively lazy expression before he spoke.

"You are quick, I will give you that." For Evon that was more than enough, his grin widened across his face. "Go and wet your head down you look as if you are melting, and then grab a practice sword. We will go through our forms before Maglor comes to spar with you and then finish with targets."

Evon said nothing as his grin disappeared. Maedhros leaned in and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It is alright, he will come," he said and turned and walked over to where Evon's mother stood with Thannor.

Evon sighed and began to walk over to the water bucket. Evon had reached the passing of sixteen warm seasons but he was still not very tall, at least not as tall as the twins and not even close to Maedhros and Maglor. But he was quick and could close distance and move out of range fast. While Elros had ended on his back whenever his feet left the ground, Maedhros encouraged Evon to leap, finding his ability to tuck and roll swiftly without losing his bearings as an advantage. Maedhros wanted Maglor to work with him on swords for he felt that Maglor's lithe and quick fighting style was better suited for Evon than his own heavy handed tactics. But Maglor no longer seemed to have any interest for sparring. He still taught Evon many of his lessons in history and language and took great joy in teaching music and theory. But combat he had lost the stomach for. When Evon first started sparring Maglor would arrive and go through forms and stance with him but slowly Maedhros began to take over, becoming frustrated with his brother's lack of commitment. Eventually Maglor quit coming all together, showing up only if Maedhros forced him too. Evon hated that. If Maglor no longer wanted to fight, he did not wish to be the reason he was forced into doing something he did not want. It pained him to see Maglor so miserable. It had come to a head at one point when Evon overhear the brothers arguing in Quenya in Maglor's chambers one night and Evon by sixteen had become quite proficient in Quenya.

" _You will stop this childish behavior Macalaurë."_

" _You of all people will not speak to me of childish behavior! I am teaching giving him his lessons daily as you gallivant off with his mother on a regular basis. I am seeing he will be properly educated; the least you can do is take the combat after years of leaving me alone with the peredhil's learning."_

" _Is that what this is about? Some tab you have started in your mind of who has done more?"_

" _No, of course not."_

" _Has he become bothersome to you, this boy? Is it such a chore that you have lost all interest?"_

" _This has nothing to do with him!"_

" _Then enlighten me! Have I done something other than the obvious? What are your reasons?"_

" _I am tired! Damn you Nelyo I am tired! I just . . . I can't . . ."_

_There was a pause in the conversation then, a long silence while the room remained still. When Maglor finally spoke his voice shook and Evon became distressed at the sound he knew was Maglor's tears._

" _I am so weary of death Nelyo. Can I not leave something else behind besides death? He is a child, still a boy in many ways and already we teach him to kill, to find weakness and exploit it. Can we not send him to Lindon, away from war and from strife? Can not one person we come in contact with be spared from bloodshed? Cannot even one life we come in contact with be spared out fate?"_

" _Fate is not on our side Macalaurë. Fate has never tilted in our favor and never will. We threw that away on the shores Alqualondë." Maedhros seemed to stop himself there and paused a moment. When he spoke again his voice had softened. "We have an obligation to prepare him for what he will inevitably face for that is the nature of the world we have created. There are things that are impossible for me teach him Macalaurë otherwise I would spare you this torment. But I cannot. I need you. He needs you."_

" _Yet another obligation for me to fulfill and to loathe myself for fulfilling it."_

The next day, when Evon met Maglor for his lessons he said nothing of what he had heard. Instead he did something he had not done since he was little; he grabbed Maglor and held him till he smiled.

Evon walked over to the water bucket and grabbed the ladle and began to pour the luke warm water on the back of his neck. The warm season had gone well past the warm stage and moved straight into hot. The seasons seem to be coming later and more extreme lately. Maglor felt it was a direct result of the war in the north. While the brothers had stopped allowing refugees to pass through the Keep some time ago, it was heard that almost all of West Beleriand was underwater as the sea was slowly taking over. Great fiery fissures had been reported opening in random areas along the Blue Mountains, even spewing hot lava in some areas. The tremors were becoming frequent to the point that Maedhros and Maglor had debated abandoning Amon Ereb and taking up a more nomadic lifestyle along the mountain range. In truth, most of Amon Ereb was abandoned already. Many of the Men who had held camp here had left with Elrond and Elros as well as several of the Noldor who wished to follow the twins or move on to Lindon. Only a handful of soldiers and house staff remained, of those Thannor, Hestil, Goweston, and the men of the kitchens were but a few. Evon thought that they would have left Amon Ereb already if not for the harsh winter last season. His mother had come down with some illness that rattled her chest when she breathed and gave her a fever. Hestil had said it would pass with rest but Maedhros had fretted and flustered about, never leaving her side. Evon turned and looked over at where his mother and Maedhros stood. Thannor had left and it was just the two of them now. They stood with their heads close together as they leaned against the fence talking.

Evon could not help but worry about his mother. Her dark chestnut hair had begun to show the occasional strand of grey and the lines upon her face seem to become subtly more pronounced as the days passed. And she became tired far easier to the point at times that Maedhros would sweep her up and carry her about. She was still vibrant in many ways and it was not as if she were incapable but still, there were just things that Evon noticed. It almost seemed to Evon that Maedhros became stronger and brighter in her presence while she seemed to diminish. While there were other times that it seemed as if Maedhros was able to breathe life into her spirit and she herself seemed to glow.

Evon even found himself worried about Maedhros at times as well. The strength he possessed was of an ancient world and the fire of life was hot within him and yet still Evon believed that there was some shadow of pain that he carried in his heart. But his mother's companionship had pushed back that shadow in ways similar to the small jewel Maedhros had given to Evon so many years back. And Evon thought that perhaps his mother was Maedros's jewel against the dark as well, but he still could not help but feel that her light seemed to be dimming.

Whether the strange relationship between the elf lord and his mother was a drain or a blessing he was not sure. But the last ten or so years had been peaceful and she did seem very content and Maedhros was happy to dote upon her, although he could not help but feel that Maglor had reservations. Every so often he would catch Maglor observing his mother, the concern on his face unmistakable, and then it was gone so quickly that Evon wondered if he saw anything at all. He did not know what it was that Maglor feared for the two of them. Evon did not believe that Maedhros would ever harm his mother and as far as he was aware, never had. And yet when Maglor looked at the two of them his expression would be one of pain mixed with dread and it caused Evon worry and he wondered if Maglor had some gift of foresight like Elrond and could see what Evon could not.

Evon shook off his reservations as he always did. His mother was a grown woman and highly capable of fending for herself as she has proven many times. Who was he to fault her these moments of bliss after all she had been through, especially since much of what she had gone though had been for him. He would not deny her this happiness, and she was very happy.

Evon walked over to the practice swords and hesitated. He had not seen Maglor yet and did not believe he was going to come. While he was saddened by this he felt as if he understood. Maglor carried many sins upon his person. Evon was well aware of the brother's dark past although he did not dwell on it much for it grieved him greatly.  _Elves_ , thought Evon,  _are very complicated_. Instead of reaching for the practice sword he reached for his bow and strung it, intent on practicing his targets.

"I was under the impression we were focusing on sword work today."

Maglor's voice came from behind him and he spun around to see the tall dark elf looking at him curiously. Evon blinked in surprise for only a brief moment before a slow smile spread wide across his face. Maglor folded his arms across his chest and tsked.

"Well, don't just stand there grinning stupidly like some great buffoon. Grab a sword so I can see what damage my brother has done to your forms in my absence. Let us hope you are salvageable."

Evon's grin only seemed to get wider as he threw down the bow and grabbed a practice sword.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two more years would pass before Evon turned eighteen and would leave the Keep.

Maedhros had made arrangements for Evon to travel with a group to the falls of Sirion where Evon would travel by ferry up the river to the main camp of the forces of the Valar. Saeran had fretted and fussed about who Evon would travel with and although Maedhros assured her he would be safe she still worried.

"I don't understand why you cannot accompany him, at least to the falls."

Maedhros rubbed at his eyes in frustration of conversation that had already be spoken many times before.

"I cannot go to the falls Saeran, we are not welcome. I have explained this to you. I will not cross that line."

"But these people you are sending him with –"

"Can be trusted."

"How do you know? What if –" Maedhros brought his hand down on the desk in front of him with a boom, his voice loud and commanding.

"If I say they can be trusted then they can be trusted! Why is that not enough for you?"

"Because he is my son!" Saeran shouted defiantly back, meeting his gaze with a fire of her own. "He is my son."

But with that last act of defiance something in Saeran seemed to give and she dropped down into the chair next to her. She lowered her head so her hair covered her face and stared at her hands.

Maedhros walked over to where Saeran sat and knelt before her. He reached up and pushed her hair back to see her face wet with tears. She looked at him hopelessly.

"He is my child," she whispered.

Maedhros pulled her close and held her tightly to him. But in the end, after goodbyes were said and gifts were given and tears flowed, as she watched her son ride off with Thannor and Maedhros to meet this company of mysterious men that Maedhros trusted with the life of her son, she knew that even had Maedhros stayed behind it was still Maglor she would have turned to in her grief. It was Maglor's embrace she sought and Maglor's silent understanding she needed most now. After the small group of riders was gone she and Maglor went inside the Keep and came upon a small table where Maglor had already placed a carafe of wine and two glasses. Saeran watched Maglor as he poured them each a glass of wine and he smiled as he extended one to her.

"Take this," he said gently, "you are going to need it."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Upon reaching the great wall Evon saw to the horses as Thannor and Maedhros set up the camp. Evon brushed down his horse Belan. He had been a gift from Thannor and was a descendent of Ectheldoth who had been put to pasture some time ago. Evon was very proud of the swift little buckskin and took great care in tending him. Thannor turned to Maedhros and smiled.

"He is a natural horseman. He would have made a good cavalry man that one."

"Perhaps he still will," replied Maedhros casually.

"He has a quick mind. He will be a great asset to the Valar."

"He will be a great asset to Men for he will have the learning of the Noldo to guide him."

Thannor said nothing, only nodded in ascent.

After the sun had waned and night was full upon them Evon lay back on his bedroll to look up at the night sky. There was no moon tonight and there were so many stars that the sky resembled a backlit canopy with thousands of tiny holes punched in it. Maedhros and Thannor were keeping watch for the caravan they were to meet and deep in their own conversation. It was in this moment that Evon let the emotions of the day take him. He had not cried while his mother did as they were packing his bags. He had let her finish and after she had left the room he had repacked those bags with the things he would truly need and not all of the sentimental items his mother his mother had placed in them. Although, there were a few things he had taken with him. Evon still did not cry as they stood out in front of the Keep and he said farewell to Maglor who gifted him with a sword and a long spear he said had come from the armory in Tirion itself. When Evon had asked him if the sword had a name Maglor replied that he would know what to call it in time. Evon embraced Maglor and whispered something softly to him that the others could not hear but caused the great elven lord to blink in surprise and considered him thoughtfully.

" _You have treated me as a son and I would be proud to call you father._ "

They mounted and left after that and Evon never shed a tear. And as they rode he never noticed Maedhros who watched him knowingly.

Evon wiped at his face. He did not wish for the others to see him weep now. It was with great shame that he realized he felt fear for what was to come. He reached into a side pocket of his breeches and pulled out a small jewell that shown brightly upon exposure to the starlight.

"Still afraid of the dark?"

Evon started and looked up, his hand instinctively closed around the jewel and the light fought between his fingers to shine. Maedhros's lowered himself to the ground gracefully and leaned back against the tree they had taken shelter under.

"As am I," he said as he reached around to the satchel near his own bedroll, "which is why it pains me to be parted from this." He threw a small parcel at Evon who caught it with his other hand.

He looked curiously at Maedhros and then at the small parcel wondering at the contents inside.

"Well," said Maedhros, "open it."

Evon set the small jewel down in his lap and picked up the package. The jewel lit up his efforts from behind creating a silhouette as he undid the wrappings. Upon opening the paper, Evon's eyes lit up with surprise and awe. The package immediately radiated a cool white light and Evon knew immediately what he beheld. A small the other three jewels shone from the end of a fine silver chain, joined together in a small pendant to hang around his neck. He noticed that there was a fourth placement that was empty in the pendant and knew what to place there. He reached down and retrieved the fourth jewel from his lap and snapped it into place and the camp was illuminated in the soft glow of starlight. He looked at Maedhros with wide eyes and smiled. Maedhros blinked but his face remained unreadable.

"You have the look of your mother," he said. It was Evon's turn to blink but before he could speak Maedhros stood up. "Now get some sleep. The dawn will be here sooner than you think." And with that he walked away.

When he woke the sun had not yet risen but the light penetrated the horizon and the blue haze of morning was upon them. Evon squinted and rubbed at his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. He stretched and took in the damp morning air. As he sat up he felt a small thump against his chest and looked down to see the pendant Maedhros had given him. In the daylight the jewels sparkled but not in an otherworldly way but in the manner of jewels that would catch the light. He smiled and tucked it beneath his shirt and stood up only to freeze. There were voices and the sound of more horses, and Evon knew his escort had arrived.

"Ashmukhâlh Barazel, ashmuhh!"

"Huglgla Starrak son of Thomak. Well met."

Evon recognized the language as that of the Khazâd, the naugrim, dwarves. He was to travel with dwarves! He jumped up and followed the voices into the clearing. Maedhros stood with a group of about fifteen or so dwarves that were armed to the teeth and seemed to carry everything they owned on their backs. The dwarf that Maedhros addressed was no exception. He was of the build of all dwarves, short, stocky and as solid as the mountains they came from. He carried a large sword on his back and although the morning was humid and warm promising an even hotter afternoon, he war chainmail and heavy leather armor about his person. His beard was a solid grey and the hair atop his head seemed to be receding somewhat but was still tied back in a long braid down his back. When he caught sight of Evon his eyebrows raised slightly.

"A bit short to be one of yours eh?" Evon looked around to make sure they were talking about him.

"He is of the atani but has the heart of an eldar, make no mistake." Maedhros had replied. Evon stood a little taller. Starrak barked a laugh.

"No accounting for taste!" and slapped Maedhros on the back. Though the slap was friendly it was solid, Maedhros did not flinch or move and Evon likened it to slapping a wall. "Come, while the boy gathers his things perhaps we can imbibe in some of that fine Noldorin wine you offered me when last we met?"

Maedhros smiled and inclined his head slightly. "I may be able to honor that request."

"Good, good!" barked Starrak, "Although perhaps only one carafe this time."

A short time later Evon had gathered his things and stood with is horse Belan as the rest of the traveling party prepared to leave. Thannor approached Evon and grabbed him up in a big embrace.

"We will miss you little alassë! Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya!"

"I will miss you as well Thannor. Make sure you keep an eye on those two. Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya."

Thannor laughed heartily at this and walked over to his horse. Maedhros considered Evon for a moment in that unreadable way of his before he to pulled the young man into an embrace.

"Huorë Titta toron."

Evon nodded and stepped away, unable to find the words. He mounted his horse and fell in line with the departing caravan, sparing one more look back before he left.

Maedhros watched Evon as he looked back one last time before he left and was suddenly reminded of his first encounter with the boy. An image of a small frightened child with large saucer eyes came to mind and he smiled at how far he had come. Thannor smiled as he watched him.

"He looks like a Noldo," he said proudly, "a short one, but a Noldo nonetheless."

Maedhros gave a soft chuckle and the two of them mounted their horses and returned to the keep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Evon spent the next two days traveling with the Starrak and his group and Evon was impressed the with ruckus they were capable of after the silent swift travel of the elves. Still, he found them to be a friendly lot and they in turn liked him much more upon learning he was not an elf. By the morning of the third day they reached the falls and Starrak approached him.

"We wait for the ferry to come and then yer on yer own boy. We're not to overly fond of traveling by boat and even less fond of traveling with elves if you catch my meaning."

Evon nodded and thanked him and tried to give him some compensation. At first Starrak waved him off but when he saw it was a small carafe of Barazel's wine he paused.

"Well, I wouldn't want to be rude." He winked at Evon and took the carafe with a smile.

Evon made himself comfortable as he waited for the ferry to take him up the river to the main encampment of the Valar. He wondered if Elrond or Elros would come to meet him hear and decided that he had better not get his hopes up. He wondered what the ferry would look like since Starrak had even said it was impressive as it was made by the elves from the undying lands although it was not manned by them for they had refused to leave the ocean and come onto the land. He noticed that other Elves and Men had begun to arrive with supplies and assumed that the time must be close so he made himself ready. When the ferry finally showed Evon was not disappointed.

It was a grand vessel, simple in design and yet beautifully made. It was long and flat and made for transport, but could move swiftly and almost effortlessly upon the water. As the boat made dock Starrak came up to him once more.

"Well this is it boy," he said with one of those solid claps on the back he had given Maedhros except Evon had stumbled forward a couple of steps upon receiving it. "You just go on up there and give 'em yer name and you should be fine. They know yer comin'. Mahal watch over you." And then he left and Evon was alone.

He walked up the gang plank with Belan, and was met by a tall imposing elf that had the same look of other worldliness the Maedhros and Maglor carried, just not as . . . worn.

"Essë," he said. Evon stood up straight before him.

"Evon, son of Saeran, of Amon Ereb."

This brought several looks from the surrounding elves. None were hostile but they were certainly curious. It was common knowledge who resided at Amon Ereb. The tall golden haired elf considered him for a moment before he nodded and moved onto the group of men behind him. Evon pulled Belan on to the barge and found a space to tie him off and stroked his neck reassuringly. It seems that he was still on his own.

"Evon, son of Saeron? Ward of the sons of Fëanor?"

Evon turned around to see a tall dark haired elf before him, complete with the same ageless beauty as the elf he had just talked to. He was dressed in dark blue over coat that went down to just above his knees and was fitted and fastened all the way up the high collar to his neck. A long cloak of the same color was draped across his shoulders and ran almost down to the ground and he was armed with nothing more than the long sword that hung at his waist. Evon tried to keep his face as carefully neutral as the elf in front of him.

"Aye," he said, almost a little to warily.

The elf broke out into a wide grin and Evon suddenly began to rethink the man's age for when he smiled he thought he could not be that much older than himself.

"Greetings young lord," he inclined his head respectfully and Evon shifted uncomfortably. "I have been sent on behalf of the lord's Elrond and Elros to accompany you for the rest of your journey. They apologize that they could not come themselves but they are much needed at the moment. You understand of course my lord."

"Of course," he said looking around awkwardly, "but please do not call me lord, for that I am not. Just Evon will do."

The elf blinked in surprise but shrugged and smiled even wider.

"If you insist," he said and extended his hand. "I suppose it is good for us to be on a first name basis as we will be working closely together. I am the lord Elrond's second in command. My name is Erestor."

Evon took the hand that was extended to him and shook it; he decided he liked this elf.

"Erestor," he said trying out the name, "it is a pleasure. Tell me, if you are Elrond's second then who is for Elros? Will I be meeting him as well?"

Erestor gave Evon a slightly confused look and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I should hope so," he said with a sideways smile, "for I was told it was to be you."

 

* * *

 

 

Saeran pulled her fur cloak tightly around her shoulders. The winters had become harsh and almost unbearable for her at times. She hated the cold and even more so now, as she felt it in her bones causing her joints to shout in protest whenever she wished to use them. This made things especially difficult due to the fact that the tremors had begun to rattle the foundations far more frequently and with much more vigor. It had become so violent that half of the Keep itself had collapsed under the intensity. This had saddened Saeran immensely due to the fact that it was hers and Maedhros rooms that had been destroyed and she wept at the thought all of the scrolls and parchments from the brother's homeland that had been lost. Maedhros did not seemed bothered as he tried to comfort her by informing her that most of the parchments that contained the histories of their people had been sent with the twins to remain with Gil-Galad and Cirdan's people. But Saeran mourned also for the memories that had been made in those rooms although she did not say as much. She and Maedhros had moved themselves and what little of their belongings could be salvaged in to the rooms that had belonged to the twins and her son near Maglor.

The Keep had become quite run down since the departure of her son. It stood mostly abandoned, most of the inhabitants having left some time ago, either with the brother's blessing or of their own accord. Thannor had remained, as did Hestil and Senwë although his sons had decided to make the trip to Lindon. Saeran understood why Thannor had remained, having grown up alongside the brothers, his father a livery man of the house. She also understood why Senwë stayed; having served their father and watched the two brothers grow up. But Hestil had surprised Saeran. She had thought the woman would have joined the last departing group for Lindon to reunite with her daughter. But she had opted to remain behind instead, taking up a small residence in the main hall and assisting Senwë by making the bread and assisting Thannor with the animals. Saeran had found this curious but had never asked Hestil why. It would be much later before she discovered the answer.

She and Maedhros had taken up a quiet existence. She was not as young as she once was and Maedhros had a tendency to hover. Maglor had taken to himself more often than not. Sometimes she would hear him playing a harp into the late hours of the night, occasionally raising his voice in some soft lament that would make Saeran see images of white towers, and grand halls and a beautiful city by the sea that was left to ruin. Maedhros would always go to him during these moments and the music would stop abruptly and Saeran would close herself off from the feelings that would come through the bond.

But more often than not she and Maedhros would sit together and read or talk, the heat of their bond having subsided somewhat and become something far more soothing and comforting for each other. Although, every once and a while she would feel some rush of heat and blush with embarrassment as she would shoot disapproving looks at Maedhros.

"Stop that!" she would snap.

He would look up from whatever he was doing and blink innocently.

"What?" he would ask.

"You know exactly what," she would hiss back. "I am far too old and withered to entertain such thoughts."

"Oh come now," he would tut, "those thoughts certainly did not come from me for I have just been sitting here reading."

He ducked his head and avoided the embroidery loop she flung at him. He made a tsk sound as he picked it up.

"You will ruin this."

"It is already ruined; I don't know why I tried to do such a tedious thing in the first place." She snatched the loop from his hands and looked back at Maedhros. "How can you still think such things Maedhros, given how worn I am." He simply smiled back. It was a beautiful smile, and always took her breath away.

"How could you think I would not?"

An image suddenly flooded her mind through the bond. She was young, and her hair was not grey and her skin was smooth. Her waist was narrow and tight and she was flush with youth.

"How can you still see me this way?" she whispered.

"Because it is how you look," he answered back. And then he rose and crossed over to her and scooped her up. He settled back into the chair and cradled her in his lap and she nuzzled up against him, content to listen to the steady drum of his heart.

And so life wore on with the seasons constantly changing, each one coming in a slightly later or earlier than the last. Each one far hotter or colder than the last depending on the time of the year. But the cold seasons were always the most difficult for Saeran, and it was during the last one when she caught that cold. At least she had thought it was a cold. It started out simple enough, an annoying cough and the constant runny nose. But she knew it would pass eventually and did not wish to bother Hestil with something so trivial when there was so much to do. Maedhros and Thannor were constantly making repairs to the Keep and Hestil and Senwë were tirelessly restocking the kitchen. And so she resolved to tough it out and waited for it to pass. Only it did not pass. And Saeran found herself dealing with a strange pressure that was building in her chest and she was finding herself out of breath far too rapidly. It continued like this till one day Maedhros had found her in a panic bent over in the hall, making a strange weezing sound in her chest and unable to move. He swept her up and ran her to their chambers shouting for Hestil the entire way. Saeran tried to tell him to calm down but only found she could not speak and when she tried she would fall into fits of coughs, leaving little specks of blood in her hand as she covered her mouth. Things became hazy for Saeran then. She flitted in and out of consciousness, sometimes hearing and understanding what was being said, other times unable to comprehend the words being spoken. She would try to answer at times, to reach call out for Maedhros and tell them she would be fine, but nothing would come out. At times she could only manage a low groan that would only seem to cause Maedhros to fret through the bond. Of course, she thought. The bond! And when she reached out she wanted to laugh at the rush of light that flooded it and enveloped her.  _I am here_  his voice would call out and she could feel his spirit grasp on to hers desperately.

It went on like this for Saeran for a while. His voice would call out to her desperately across their bond and she would answer, trying to convey some sense of comfort to what she could only discern as despondency from him. But she was growing tired, so very tired. And it seemed that just when she was about to get some rest his voice would come through the bond begging her not to leave, to come back to him. She would become confused then, not understanding what he meant for she had no intention of going anywhere. But still he begged and so she stayed awake and they would send images to each other through the bond. Images of when she was young and their passion was at its height. Of bodies entwined and hands and mouths covering skin. Of arms wrapped around the other and whispers of I love you in the night. But still Saeran was tired and found she could stay awake no more. And although Maedhros clung onto to her desperately she felt her hold slipping until eventually the light winked out and there was nothing.

Hestil stood before Saeran's body and spoke cautiously to the lord who knelt by her side. His head was lowered and she could not see his face and in truth she prayed he would not look up for she feared what she would see there.

"My lord," she said softly waiting a moment in the hopes he would acknowledge what they all already knew. "My lord, please . . . she is gone." Hestil thought she saw him flinch at her words and waited.

"Get out," he said, his voice nothing more than a low breathy hiss. Hestil looked over at where Thannor stood still as stone also unsure of what to do.

"I said," the hunched over figure hissed again, "Get. Out." This time it was slightly louder.

"Leave us," a voice called from the door. Hestil turned and was relieved to see the lord Maglor stood there staring at his brother. Hestil and Thannor left the room as Maglor closed the door behind them.

* * *

~oOo~

Elros fell hard on his back and rolled immediately to the side, barely avoiding the axe that swung down and struck where his head had been. But that was all he was able to do before the orc that stood over him began to bring down the axe again, and he braced himself for the impact. Only it never came, for a spear thrust from the beasts chest and it fell in a heap before him. He looked up to see men leaping over him and pushing back the contingent of orcs that had over run his men. He turned to stand to see a hand reaching down for his and he took it and looked up to see a familiar face.

"You never could keep your feet on the ground," Evon said with a grim smile. "That was close Elros."

"Agreed," said Elros with a wry smile of his own. "It is good I keep you around. Where is Elrond?" Evon pointed at a group of men on horseback.

"On the north ridge. It does not look good Elros, the dragons have taken out almost half of his cavalry. We will not be able take much more of this."

But he is still alive Elros thought as he nodded his head and looked to the mountains of Angband. They were so close this time but the Enemy still had a few tricks up his sleeve and they were particularly nasty. Dragons had come out of the black smoke of those mountains and the casualties were mounting. The bodies of Men and Elves and Dwarves were strewn all along the mountainside, but Elros knew in his heart if they did not take the Enemies fortress here then they never would. Suddenly a deafening roar shook the ground and took Elros and Evon to their knees as they covered their ears in pain and filled their very being with dread. When Elros was finally able to look up he saw a terrifying sight. Great bellows of black smoke bloomed from the Thangorodrim and from its depths rose a great black dragon, larger and fiercer than any Elros had seen so far. It perched upon the mountain range and when it spread its wings it covered the land in shadow and darkness and filled the forces of the Valar with fear and blinded them with dark magic. It opened its great maw and spewed out fire that rained down on the armies of Men, Elves and Dwarves. And when it took to the sky Elros knew that they could not stand up to this and that if he was to save anyone, they must flee. He turned and looked desperately for his brother and Evon as he gave the call to fall back, vowing to curse Morgoth with his last breath.

But just when all hope was lost a light broke through the darkness. Elros turned and saw Evon who stared down at the pendant around his neck that Maedhros had given him, now shown like a single bright star in the blackest night and served as a beacon for Elros's forces to rally too. Evon ripped the jewel from around his neck and held it high over his head.

"Rally to me!" cried Elros, "Men and Elves and Dwarves! Allies to the Valar! Rally to me!" Several voices answered him in the dark.

"To the light!" they shouted, "Follow the light!" And Elros rejoiced briefly when he saw his brother ride up to them unharmed. But even as they regrouped and found their courage in the star that Evon held above his head, the great black dragon turned its attention to them as well and devised to snuff out the jewel that chased away the dark.

But that was not the only jewel of Fëanor to light up the sky that night.

For just at that moment, just as the great dragon was about to unleash a torrent of fire upon the gathering forces, Gil-Estel, Eärendil the Blessed with the Silmaril upon his brow descended from the skies in Vingilótë and slew the beast casting him down upon the Thangorodrim as Thorondor and the eagles slew its spawn along the mountainside.

The voices of Men, Elves and Dwarves rejoiced as the forces of the enemy fled and they gave chase, showing no mercy to any that fell behind.

The war was won. The forces of the Valar were triumphant and Morgoth brought before Eönwë and bound and returned to Valinor to be imprisoned in the void for all eternity and the Silmarils given into Eönwë's care to be returned to the blessed lands. Celebrations were held throughout the camp and all partook in the revelry. All but two. For Elrond and Elros retreated deep within the encampment of the men who followed them and kept to themselves and away from the events of that night. And while every other voice rose in joyful praise, two wept in silent mourning for the events that would later transpire.

* * *

~oOo~

Maglor stood in the middle of the encampment next to Maedhros and waited.

It had been one month since the war had ended. One month since the great star fell from the sky to strike down the enemy they had fought relentlessly against and failed every time. One month since Maedhros had returned from the mountains where he had buried Saeran, building a cairn along the mountain face for he would not leave her body in the ground as was the way of her people. One month since Maglor had walked the ruins of the Keep to find his brother waiting for him and he knew Maedhros had seen what he and the others had seen from the wall.

The end of the war and victory for the Valar. Which could only mean one thing.

Morgoth was defeated. The Silmaril had been regained.

He had come to Maglor in the dark hours of the night. His clothes disheveled, his eyes black as the void and Maglor knew what it was that he sought. He had seen this brother before. Ambarussa, eyes black and demanding their due. Tyelkormo, eyes black and demanding blood.

And so they called for Thannor who was to complete one last request for his lords and friends and then be released from his duties along with Hestil and Senwë, free to find their own fate.

When they had found the response to their request . . . that was not right for they did not ask. Their demands for what was rightly theirs, Maglor had not been surprised. Somehow he had always known it would come to this.

And now Maglor stood in the middle of the encampment, back to back against Maedhros, casket in hand, and prepared to die.

* * *

~oOo~

Elros watched the young boy on the floor playing with the small marble figurine. It was carved in the shape of a young male elf with a sword and it fought with another carved figure that stood beside a large dog.

"They would not fight you know," he said to the child at his feet. The boy looked up and smiled and then returned to playing. His infant sister sat next to him gumming at another figure that Elros removed from her mouth.

"That's alright," said the child, "that one is not very strong, and he just has a harp." Elros considered the wet figurine in his hand as he dried it off on his coat.

"Oh I don't know," said Elros, "I think he may have been the strongest one of all." The boy frowned and took the small marble statue from Elros's hand and studied it closely. At that moment, Evon walked in with the eldest of his son's. He bent down and scooped up the baby girl at his feet and looked at the boy who studied the figure playing the harp.

"Hello my little ones," he said as the younger boy dropped the figurines in his hand and ran to his father who bounced his sister on his hip. "Have they been causing you trouble my lord?"

Elros picked up the discarded figures and placed them carefully in the silk satchel they lived in and smiled.

"Not at all, and I told you to stop calling me lord," he said as he stood up. Evon smiled and took the satchel from Elros.

"Propriety, Elros, try to show a little decorum."

Elros laughed and watched his friend with his children. Evon was almost fifty now, a grown man with a growing family. He had two more sons that were with their mother and another was on the way. He had been forty-five when the war ended and how he had found the time between battles to father so many children was beyond Elros. Evon would smile mischievously and simply credited his young wife who would give him a sharp elbow to the ribs every time. The war had ended years ago with the forces of the Valar returning to the blessed lands. Many of the Noldor in exile given leave to return, although not all opted to go.

At that moment Elrond entered the room with Erestor close behind him. The brother's embraced as Erestor went over to Evon and the two greeted each other as old friends. Elrond and Elros walked over to the other end of the room to talk.

"Have you any word?" asked Elros and Elrond shook his head.

"None. I have told you, he will not return among his people." Elros looked at the ground. He knew that Elrond was rarely wrong in what he foresaw but still, he had hoped.

"And Maedhros?"

"It is as I said." The brothers stood in silence for a moment before Elros spoke again.

"I wish they had answered the summons," he whispered.

"I wish I could have healed his hurts," his brother replied and silence descended again.

"Speaking of summons," Elrond said snapping Elros from his relvelrie, "we have been called before Eönwë."

"I know," said Elros.

"What do you intend to do?"

"That," said Elros, "I do not know." Elrond nodded and looked away, out the window and over the sea.

"Do you still intend to join Gil-Galad and his folk?" asked Elros.

"Yes, he is a good king. A great leader. There is much to be learned from him."

"To Lindon then," said Elros.

"To Lindon," confirmed Elrond as he looked back at his brother. "You are still welcome to come." He spoke softly and Elros could hear the hope in his voice.

"I am to find my own way," he said just as softly, but a smile broke his serious visage. "Can't have you riding my coattails everywhere I go." Elrond sniffed and gave Elros a playful shove before turning back to the window, leaning against the sill.

"You know, all of Beleriand is taken by the sea and yet Himring still stands."

Elros folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the window, opposite of his brother.

"Himring will always stand."

* * *

~oOo~

**Epilogue:**

Elros stood before the marker of his friend. Evon had lived to the ripe old age of ninety-two. He had fathered six children. He had been with Elros when Numenor was raised from the depths of the seas and had stood at his side when Elros was crowned King. Elros had been at his side when he passed and made a quiet promise that he would always look to the wellbeing of his descendants. And Evon had left quite a few. Four sons and two daughters. And they in turn had many children of their own. It was the family of Vorindor, Evon's youngest child who he visited now. And even he had grandchildren of his own. The youngest just recently born. Elros had taken Vorindor as a something along the lines of a steward of his house and hoped that his eldest son Gwydyon would follow suit when his father tired of the responsibility. Elros felt a thump against his leg and looked down to see a ball had rolled against it. A small child tottered out after and hestitated when he saw Elros. Elros knelt down and smiled as he held the ball out to the child with the large saucer eyes before him.

"Shall I roll it to you then?"

A small smile began to form causing dimples to show within chubby cheeks when a voice called out from behind the child.

"Alasson? Alasson!"

Elros looked up to see a young woman run around the corner and his breath caught at what he saw. She was young and lithe and had long dark hair that ran down her back and was streaked with golden-blonde highlights from the sun. Her eyes were large and dark and when she smiled Elros's heart jumped suddenly and he spoke before he realized what he was saying.

"Saeran?" he whispered.

The young girl glanced at him briefly as she ran up to the child Elros knelt in front of.

"Alasson, there you are! You mustn't run off like that. Forgive me sir . . ." her voice trailed off as she looked down at Elros who still knelt on the ground before her. Suddenly a look of recognition came across her face and she gasped and dropped to her own knees on the ground.

"Your Majesty! Forgive me! I did not realize, I am so sorry! Had I known, please forgive me!" She went on like that for a few more seconds, sputtering out apologies as Elros looked at her. No, not Saeran, but obviously a relation for the resemblance was uncanny and he could not stop staring at her. He realized then that she was looking at him strangely for he still knelt on the ground. Immediately he stood up and held his hand out to her. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, looking around nervously as she did.

"Please, you must forgive me. I am the one who has appeared unannounced. Is he your son?" Her eyes widened as she looked to the ground.

"No your Majesty, he is my youngest brother and I am tasked with his care for the afternoon. A task I am afraid I am doing very poorly."

Elros smiled upon hearing the boy was not her child. The young woman continued to glance at him nervously.

"Nonsense," he said and wondered why she was still so nervous when he realized he was still holding her hand. He released her hand quickly and dropped his hands to his side awkwardly.  _What is wrong with me_ , he thought.

"So," he said smiling again, "this little one is called Alasson," the little boy looked up at him curiously. "Might I inquire after your name as well?" She dropped back down into a deep curtsy as Alasson looked back to her.

"I am Aileanna, your Majesty, daughter of Gwydyon." It was Elros's turn to look surprised.

"Aileanna?!" Elros exclaimed and Alasson's head whipped back around to look at him. "Gwydyon's young daughter? Vorindor's granddaughter? Why the last time I saw you, you were but a speck of a thing! Not at all the wo- I mean, you are . . . you . . . have grown . . . up." She glanced back up at him as he stuttered and Elros cursed his clumsy tongue.  _You have grown up?_  He thought to himself angrily.  _You sound like a buffoon!_

"Yes your Majesty."

"No, no, no," he said and reached for her again taking her hand for her to stand up. "This will never do. Do not call me Majesty, please."

"Yes my lord."

"No, no, no," he said again shaking his head. "No lord either. Simply Elros." Her eyes went wide and she looked down nervously at her hand in Elros's. Alasson sighed and plopped down onto the ground and pulled a toy out of his pocket to play with.

"Oh no my lord, I could never do that. To do so would be scandalous!"

Elros cover her hand with both of his and looked her earnestly in the eyes.

"Please, I must insist for I have too much love for your house to allow otherwise. You will call me Elros and I will call you Aileanna . . . if you will allow it." She considered him for a moment before Elros saw the start of a small smile play along her lips. He fought the urge to touch them with his own.

"I suppose . . . it will be alright . . . Elros." She her mouth gave into the smile as she said his name and Elros felt a strange fluttering sensation in his chest.

"Excellent!" His own wide smile beamed from his person and he turned around and swept up the very bored Alasson from the ground. The boy squealed with delight at the surprise. "Now," said Elros as he held his arm out for Aileanna to take, "if you would do me the honor of escorting me to your grandfather's house I have come to the realization that there is much I must talk to your father and grandfather about."

Their courtship would last through two seasons and their first child born in the year sixty-one of the second age.


	11. Quenya, Sindar, Dwarvish Translations

_Macalaurë - Maglor_

__Lapsë - babe_ _

___Dosta hain pân - Burn them all_ _ _

____Lyé ná mala - you are hurt_ _ _ _

_____Ní vanda uimala nalye - I promise no harm to you_ _ _ _ _

______Mapa camba-nya - take my hand_ _ _ _ _ _

èzùkhas - dwarvish for "Chief"

Barazel - dwarvish for "red-of-red"

Huglgla baruk Khazâd - dwarvish for "hello axes of dwarves"

Enta máriello - Quenya for "one more please"

Nai i Valar varyuvar le tielyassë nu i vilya - Quenya for "May the Vala protect you on your path under the sky"

_Lav nye – Quenya - allow me/let me_

Quenya

Mára aurë – good morn/happy morn, good morning

Aiya – hail (in greeting)

Titta osellë – little/tiny sister

Hantanyel – thank you

Namárië – fare well/be well

Tenna enta lúmë – until that time

Alassë – Quenya for "joy"

Minë – Quenya for "one"

Atto – Quenya for "two"

Neldë – Quenya for "three"

Canta – Quenya for "four"

Winsterhand – old English for "left-handed"

Hon cuin – Sindarin for "Is he alive"

Da – Sindarin for "yes"

Maer, Im gar-thang an-i-adan – Sindarin for "Good, I have need for the man"

Tol, aphada-nin-am peredhel – Sindarin for "come, follow me up"

Hoda-sí ae-thang – Sindarin for "rest here if needed"

Gohena-nin - Sindarin for "forgive me"

Eglath – Sindarin for "forsaken"

Ernil – Sindarin for "prince"

Ashmukhâlh Barazel, ashmuhh – Dwarvish for "Greeting Red-of-Red, Hail"

Huglgla – Dwarvish for "hello"

 

 

Huorë Titta toron – Quenya for "courage, little brother"

Essë – Quenya for "name


End file.
